


Every Flower, Every Grain of Sand

by SundayZenith



Category: The SpongeBob Musical - Various/Anthony & Coulton/Jarrow
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Holy Wordcount Batman, Hurt/Comfort, I'll attempt to update this as much as personally possible (which may not be often at times), If you think something needs to be tagged, Likely OOC, i guess?, let me know and I'll get on it, this'll be a buncha self indulgent one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-03-31 13:20:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13975974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SundayZenith/pseuds/SundayZenith
Summary: It's time to clean up the messes made, from both during and Before the town was thrown into a panic by Mt. Humongous's near eruption.Because while everyday Can be the Best Day Ever, sometimes you need to put in a little work to make that happen.(Series of connected One Shots)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! A few quick notes. These take place post musical, using the musical as a primary source. Meaning that while a few references to the cartoon Can be found here, I wouldn't count on it. I haven't seen the show in like half a decade, and I currently have zero plans to dive back into it. Information that Does make it in, mean while, will be cherry-picked and may be manipulated to fit the story I feel like telling in my spare time better. Lets just go ahead and call this a headcanon-y AU, I suppose.  
> I do not plan to use curses in this (I find the challenge of writing around them amusing lmao), I will probably let a few slip out in my notes.  
> The characters are meant to be anthropomorphized based on their costumes.  
> I love commentaries. If you're a fan of them, too, then stick around after the works and I'll talk about what I've written and why in the notes at the end.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey we all almost died, now seems like the best time to *Bill Wurtz voice* Talk About Our Feelings

Eugene put the phone down with a sign. He and his daughter needed to have a serious talk.

 

_ After _ he made sure nothing had been stolen or damaged beyond the broken window visible from the front.

 

The riots and boulders for the most part hadn’t wrecked the residential areas of Bikini Bottom,  _ thank Neptune _ . Repairing the Krusty Krab would be expensive enough as it is, and after the Mayor had nearly confiscated his hard-earned riches, he didn’t think his heart could handle the stress of needing to pay for home repairs as well.

 

He found a shoe laying among the glass shards in the living room- not one he recognized. The decoy secret formula was where he had hidden it, so he could probably rule out Plankton. So was the money stashes he had almost been forced to leave behind. The shoe probably came from some panicked sardeen throwing things for the sake of throwing them running to or from the heart of the mayhem.

 

Whoever it was, they had inexplicable aim- not all the glass had come from the window. The shoe seemed to have bounced off a wall, knocking one of his photos down.

 

It was one of Pearl and him in front of the Krusty Krab, taken by his mother, his arm around her shoulder and both of them grinning at the camera She was probably no more than twelve years old in it, and already nearly as tall as him.

 

They used to be _ so close _ .

 

He’ll reframe it later. For now, he needs to mend things with the current Pearl.

 

He pulls out his wallet and calls, “Pearlie, come into the kitchen. And mind yer feet.”

 

He was answered with a long, drawn out and exaggerated groan. Good, he had been half-worried she had decided to run away after all.

 

He pulled out a chair and sat down, dropping his wallet on the table in front of him. His daughter’s footsteps echoing throughout the house as she stomped down from her room. As far as Eugene Krabs was concerned, it was music to his ears. 

 

“Okay, daddy, listen. About earlier…” she flopped down in the chair across from him.

 

“I am honey. You got me full attention.”

 

Pearl seemed unsure about what to say. “Listen,” she repeated, “I know running away after a boy band that doesn’t take the apocalypse seriously  _ seems  _ bad.” 

 

“Ye think?”

 

“But I had no idea they would do that.”

 

She crossed her arms. He mirrored her.

 

“...And? Come on, Pearlie, I know you’ve got a lot on yer mind. I mean it. You got me full, undivided attention, I swear.”

 

She shrugged in response, looking defiantly to the side. When did his little girl become such a  _ teenager _ ?

 

“Alright, tell me: you really thought money was more important to me than me own daughter?”

 

“Well, blood isn’t everything!” She burst out, and his heart jumped to his throat. “Like- like with The Electric Skates, their lead singer has stated in interviews that he was never close to his parents, and that the other members were basically his brothers.” Eugene signed in relief.  Neptune stick him down, he was not ready to have _ that _ conversation with her yet.

 

“Daddy, I- okay, listen. You kinda have a problem.”

 

“I know. What?” he asked at her dumbfounded look, “Hip geezers can be self-aware, too, ye know. 

 

“Pearl, darling, it wasn't easy on yer grandmother and me growing up. There were nights I would lie and say I had eaten at school so she’d have a proper meal, and there were nights when I know she did the same. This,” he held up the wallet, bursting at the seams with cash, he noted with some guilty pride, “was something I never dared dream of. That kinda upbringing, combined with me joining the Navy right outta high school, it does things to ye.”

 

He dropped the wallet back on the table, and stood to put a claw on her shoulder. “Pearl, I wanted better for you. I now see I should’ve  _ been _ better. Now, can ye give yer old man a hug?”

 

She threw her arms around his middle- her grip, he swore, could crack the hardest shell, not that he minded- and buried her face against his chest like she did as a little kid.

 

“Yer still grounded.”

 

“Wha-  _ seriously _ ?”

 

“Yep. No shopping or hanging out with yer lil friends,  you’re to come right to the restaurant after cheerleading practice, I don’t want to see you use that shellphone for anything but schoolwork, and...,” he grinned to himself, “and I am supervisin’ yer band practices for the foreseeable future.”

 

“ _ Seriously? _ I can still start my band?!”

 

“O’corse. I missed too much of yer singing in the past. I won’t be missing another note. Also, you let Plankton’s wife join, and from what I’ve seen, she might be more diabotical than him.”

 

No amount of money could ever be worth more to him than her laugh.

 

\--

Karen let the door close behind her, not bothering to wait for Sheldon. She had spent the better part of the night following the celebrations outside city hall, among several of the rioters, the citizens who took part in the anti-squirrel mob, and anyone who did anything that might be considered illegal (which had been two-thirds of the town), before the Mayor returned from a phone call with her husband in tow (how he managed to convince them not to lock him up, she didn’t care), dismissed them all with a half-hearted apology, and in her and Sheldon’s case, a warning.

 

Karen was designed to be an AI security system. She didn’t feel exhaustion, was designed to never need sleep, and as long as her power didn’t get too low, she could probably go on forever. And yet, thinking about the argument she and Sheldon had just made her _ tired _ .

 

If it were possible, she would have a headache. She may have taken a more active role in her husband’s latest scheme, but to think he would have the  _ nerve _ to throw her under the bus like that? After things had gone so well?

 

“Karen?”

 

She didn’t need to sign, but she did anyway. “ _ Yes _ , Sheldon.”

 

“...I want our marriage to work out.”

 

“Oh?” Alright, she had to admit she hadn’t expected him to say that. 

 

For someone frankly so predictable, he still somehow managed to surprise her from time to time.

 

“Can you turn around? So we can talk?”

 

She complied, curious and a little concerned his uncharacteristically small tone (failure got him down, sure, but he almost always bounces right back with an angry declaration of revenge). And in that moment, he certainly looked as small as he often felt- bent poster, hair and antennae falling out of his usually pristine braids ( _ when did that happen? _ ), he was clutching his puppet so hard the eye looked ready to pop.

 

He looked so pitiful, any sarcastic retorts died before reaching her synthetic lips.

 

“Okay,” she pulled out one of the less dusty restaurant chairs, and he did the same. “Let talk.”

 

“These last few days, having you on my side like before, its… its been nice. Seeing you get so excited over an evil scheme, having your support, its been really nice. I’ve missed that side of you.”

 

“...It has been nice,” she admitted, and his back straightened out slightly.

 

“You know how sometimes I just feel so-”

 

“Tiny? Miniscule? Infinitesimal? Itsy-bitsy?-”

 

“ _ Thank you _ , Karen, I get it. It's just, with you by my side, I felt like I didn’t need the town at my mercy. Just the thought of you ruling over them with him made me feel taller than Poseidon himself.

 

“...It was nice, hearing you call me ‘Big Guy.’”

 

Most people around them assumed Plankton had built her to be his wife. That wasn’t close to what happened- she had just been an experimental AI put in a security. Something about him had made her fall in love in the first place.

 

Had it been the excitement of the early days, her monitoring for the authorities as he tinkered away in the lab? His stupid stubbornness to never give up on his goals? The fact that while he was mostly hot gas, he tried  _ so hard _ to be evil?

 

Or maybe it had been that eyepatch? It really added to the ambiance. 

 

“Anyway, I want to see you that happy and excited more. I want  _ us _ . Together. And…” he winced, “And I know I shouldn’t shift the blame if I want that. So I’m s- I’m su-sore-I,”

He took a deep breath, “ _ I am sorry _ . Ugh. I think I sprained something, how do people just say that-?”

 

“I’m sorry, too.” She saw what he meant. Sincere apologies just weren’t nature for their kind. “I could stand to be more supportive myself.

 

“Fixing our marriage? Honestly it sounds as hairbrained as your usual plans, and sounds like it’ll work out as well as them. _ But _ ,” she reached out and covered his hand with her own, “I’m in, big guy.”

 

Or maybe it had been that smile of his, all teeth and entirely for her.

 

\--

Squidward dropped the phone, rubbing his eyes. Maybe he just had to accept it. Maybe he was- emphasis on the was- a loser. And maybe, just maybe, the world wasn’t such a bad place. Not if people like the sunshiney _ moron _ with the hero complex living in the pineapple next door could exist.

 

Not if people like his mother- may she rest in peace- could exist.

 

Then again, if people like his poor mother could die before their time, maybe he was right about the world.

 

Then again, if people like Spongebob could survive the unsurvivable and still manage to unite a warring town and make _ him _ see hope as  _ certain death _ was hurtling straight towards them all, maybe he was wrong.

 

Then again, if losers like him could exist-

 

Then again-

 

Then again, then again, _ then again _ \- he already had this crisis years ago, darn it, he almost died, he should be allowed to be content in his world view.

 

“Stupid sponge,” he muttered under his breath, “stupid boy band, stupid volcano, stupid, stupid,  _ stupid _ Squidward.”

 

He took out his wallet, collapsing in his chair as he did so, and pulled out the photo of his mother he kept in it. “Mama’s handsome little hexapus isn't doing so great.” Hasn't been for a while, he realized. The image of Hope Tentacles didn’t reply, not that he expected it to (if it had, he would probably be dealing with a whole nother set of issues, ones that would require some sort of exorcist, at least.)

 

His mother would have known what to say.

 

She always did.

 

He wished he called her more when she was still alive. Maybe she still would be.

 

“Ugh, you would probably have loved that little yellow menace. He believes in everything, too. It actually might be a good thing you two never met, now that I think about it. You would probably run door to door at the crack of dawn to give away cookies and sing about how amazing everything is all the time.” He actually smiled at the thought, though it also filled him with a little horror, too. He could barely leave the house without at least three cups of coffee in the morning, a trait he definitely did  _ not _ inherit from his mother. 

 

Maybe the world was the bleek, horrible cesspool he thought it was. Maybe it was a place that fostered community and dreams, like his mother and Spongebob thought.

 

Squidward suddenly wished he understood how they could always see the glass half full.

 

He carefully returned the picture to his wallet and shifted in his seat to put it back in his pocket. His fingers brushed against a piece of paper he didn’t remember putting in there. He pulled it out.

 

It was a note that read: “You seem like a cool guy. If you don’t die horribly, give me a call. We can meet up for coffee next time my squad is in town and get to know each other better. It’ll be a date. - XO Coda Pod (SJP’s cuz/awesome dancer)” Below it was a number and a winky smiley face doodle.

 

Squidward had almost forgotten that one dancer- he didn’t usually go for that hip hoppy rap music that was so popular recently, but he had been drawn into Plankton’s song as much as everyone else in town, and when one of thoses green haired backup dancers approached him, he had danced along with him. They hadn’t been able to exchange more than a few words, since he and the other dancers had left town as soon as the song some was done, and Squidward had been tasked with catering for that _ ungrateful  _ boy band. 

 

Panic rose in Squidward’s chest (how had he known he was gay? Who else knew?) before another thought occurred to him:  _ he thinks I’m cool. _

 

_ Huh. _

 

He normally wouldn’t trust Mr. Krabs as far as he could throw him, but he knew the old miser wouldn’t fire him for being friendly with one of Plankton’s cousins- after all, Krabs was fine with Squidward and Pearl joining a band with his arch-rival’s wife (or whatever they were at this point, Squidward was staying as far out of that can of tuna as he could)- and _ couldn’t _ fire him for being gay.

 

Not with Spongebob around.

 

He didn’t want to think about possibly technically being in debt to his neighbor (even if the annoyingly nice sponge didn’t realize it), not to mention the face they might not even be compatible, if their music taste was as different as it seemed, and considered simply crumbling up the note and tossing it away.

 

_ Then again… _

 

His mother would want to see him happy, and who knew when he would have another opportunity like this. He could at least call the guy to let him know he was still alive. (He knew what it was like to sit waiting for a call from someone who would never be able to call back.)

 

He was back at the phone dialing the number before he could stop himself.

 

“Yo, Coda Pod here. Am I misreading this area code, or was Bikini Bottom really not fried?”

 

“Oh, er hi,” what was he doing? “Haven’t you seen the news? We’re still here.” For better or worse. “Its Squidward, by the way. The cool guy. You mentioned coffee in your note?”

 

“Oh man, you actually called? _ That’s so grea _ \- cool. Thats cool. You’re cool. Yeah. Coffee.”

 

Squidward heard a smile in his voice. He felt himself smile back.

 

\--

Spongebob hung the phone up, his chest still feeling tight. He wasn’t sure what to name the emotions raging inside him- wasn’t sure if he wanted to, actually. Not all of them, at least. One thing was clear, it wasn’t fear for his family- his parents and grandmother had thankfully been out of town all week, completely missing the panic Bikini Bottom had gone through.

 

Well, almost completely. They had been avidly following Perch Perkins’s news broadcasts the second they caught wind of there being earthquakes, and every moment Spongebob hadn’t been on screen had been a nightmare for them. They had been trying to reach him for hours, but everytime he had actually been near his phone, the lines would go out or the reception had been spotty.

 

Guilt. That was one of the emotions. He felt guilty. Guilty for how much his parents worried, guilty for arguing with Patrick, and guilty for nearly abandoning Sandy and Bikini Bottom himself after their fight.

 

Gary rubbed against his leg with a meow, bringing him back to the present. 

 

“Hey Gar-bear,” he said, crouching down to rub the snail’s shell. “Man, am I glad you’re okay. Sorry about losing all that mountain climbing equipment you got me. How’sa ‘bout we go skateboarding later?” Gary had recently taken it up as a hobby, and while Spongebob still by far preferred his bike, he loved watching his beloved pet tearing it up at the parks.

 

“Meow.”

 

“The skateparks were pretty much untouched, thanks to the Electric Skates. Other that some kinda mean graffiti- which I am sure will be cleaned up as soon as possible.”

 

“Meow.”

 

“Oh, I’m fine. Really Gary, I don’t m-”

 

“Meow.”

 

“...Yeah, I _ would  _ kinda prefer to stay here and rest with Sandy and Patrick.”

 

“Meow.”

 

“And you, of course. C’mere.” Spongebob scooped Gary up and held him close to his chest, walking into his living room.

 

Sandy was still asleep on his couch, where she had promptly passed out as soon as they got to his home. Patrick must have thrown the cape his followers had lovingly crocheted for him over her while Spongebob was on the phone, because she was using it was a blanket. It was actually kinda cute.

 

Patrick was sitting on the floor in front of her, staring blankly at the turned off TV, his own phone held loosely in his hand. Spongebob settled down next to him as quietly and carefully as he could with Gary in his lap and Sandy behind them, and reached for the remote. Maybe a fun cartoon marathon on mute was what they needed right now.

 

Patrick took his hand before he could pick the remote up. “I… I think,” he said in a low voice, “maybe, sometimes, too much television  _ is  _ a thing.”

 

Fear. Spongebob had felt to much of it the last few days, and it seemed to be lingering for some reason. He was afraid for his family- not his blood family, though he would probably sleep better after spending some time with them- but the family that was his friends and community. Sandy, Patrick, Squidward, Gary, the Krabses, all of them were as much a part of him as the nose on his face, and he had almost lost them to chaos and panic. And his fellow Bikini Bottomites- they had nearly torn each other apart. He was afraid of what would happen to his simple town if disaster struck again.

 

“You okay, Pat?”

 

“You guys could have died.”

 

“ _ Buuuut _ we didn’t-”

 

“Like  _ died _ died.”

 

“Patrick, we’re all a-”

 

“As in dead-”

 

“ _ Patrick _ ,” Spongebob winced at his own tone, and looked over his shoulder to make sure Sandy was still asleep. She was, thank Neptune. “None of us are dead. We all survived. You saved me, we saved the town, everything is okay.”

 

“It almost wasn’t, though. Seriously, you could have died. _ I _ could have let you die.”

 

Anger. Robert “Spongebob Hero” Squarepants, the most forgiving sponge in the entire sea, was angry. Angry at the members of  _ his town _ for trying to attack one of his best friends just because she was from somewhere else initially, and for attacking each other because in the face of certain doom they all adopted an “every fish for themself” mentality. Angry at the volcano for leading to all this destruction. Angry at himself for almost running away in fear, for not listening to Patrick in the first place, and for not trying to call his own parents sooner.

 

But he wasn’t angry at Patrick. He had forgiven his best friend long before he saved him with that jet pack.

 

He went to tell Patrick that when he saw his phone light up  with a text: “You really Are good at advice” followed by a “Thank you.”

 

“Is that one of your followers?”

 

“Huh?” Patrick looked down at his phone. “No, that’s Mrs. Puff.”

 

Spongebob tilted his head and Patrick shrugged in response.

 

“I called her earlier to get _ her _ advice, but she just hung up.  _ Everyone _ is hanging up on me.”

 

“What? Without saying anything?”

 

“No, they usually say something like ‘I get your point’ or ‘I see’ or ‘I understand.’ _ I _ don’t understand.”

 

“What have you been saying to them?”

 

Patrick hesitated. “...Well, I would call them and ask ‘would you forgive yourself if you lost them and it was your fault?’”

 

“Oh Pat…”

 

“It's a legitim- leggyma- ligit- It’s a _ real  _ question and nobody is answering.” 

 

Sadness. Of course he was sad, he almost lost everything. He almost lost his family. Because he had almost been completely powerless, just a dumb, simple sponge.

 

But he didn’t. And he wasn’t.

 

Spongebob squeezed Patrick’s hand. “Let me see your phone for a minute.” 

 

Patrick handed it over, and Spongebob opened the camera app, stretching his arm out so they were all in the frame.

 

“Don’t even think about it, Squarepants,”  Sandy muttered without opening her eyes.

 

“Too late.” He already snapped the picture and texted it to himself. “It was about time we took another family photo.”

 

Sandy snorted, and moved to get up.

 

“Wait, Sandy no, don’t get up-”

 

“No offence, Spongebob, but this couch isn’t really the most comfortable place to sleep.” She settled on the floor next to them, and leaned heavily on Spongebob, who fell against Patrick’s chest. “Hope you boys don’t mind if I rest my eyes a little longer,” she muttered, shifting to cover the four of them with the cape. “Y’all should get some shut eye yourselves. After the day we’ve had, you must be as tired as an overworked dog in a stick chasing contest. Not the mention how much work Bikini Bottom’s gotta do to clean up tomorrow.”

 

“Now that you mention it…” Patrick stretched and pulled them closer against him.

 

Safe. Spongebob was safe, his friends and family were safe,  _ Bikini Bottom was safe _ . And they would make sure it would be safe tomorrow and the day after that and every day after that. For everyone. He silently promised that, and he intended to keep it. 

 

Each and every day, he would try his best to keep it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -http://sunshine-zenith.tumblr.com/post/171808863679/reverse-anthropomorphism Here's what I was going for with the claws and antennae.  
> -Pft get it? Hope Tentacles? Cause she's dead? Like Squidward's Hopes and dreams?  
> -http://richardhblakes.tumblr.com/post/165847218049/squidward-that-dancer-guy For those curious as to who the hell Coda Pod is. I couldn't find a name for him, so I just went with the first pun I could think of (copepod). I went ahead and made him and the other dancers Plankton's cousins who happened to be in town long enough to do their cousin a solid by dancing before ollying on outta there. He's prolly not gonna show up physically much, if at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "How Not to tell your child to find their chill (seven easy steps in the style of an epic Romantic novel) by Ma and Pa cheeks.

“They couldn’t…”

 

Sandy sighed, “Spongebob, they did.”

 

At some point when they had been climbing Mt. Humongous, the mob had made a visit to her treedome. Luckily, none of them had been able to get in- she could just imagine half of them suffocating before they realized she wasn’t there- and her dome was sturdy enough to survive anything they might have thrown at it. 

 

And they had thrown a lot of junk at it- litter, mud, rocks, even a crashed boat (thankfully, whoever had been driving it probably wasn’t hurt). This would be easy enough to clean up, she had taken care of bigger messes in single afternoons. The graffiti, on the other hand, would take longer.

 

A crude drawing of a squirrel with an X over it, a simplistic angry face, and various hateful phrases, some with words she would never repeat herself. One sentence in particular must have taken considerable effort to write, it was written much higher than she could reach for sure.

 

_ Land Creatures Don’t Belong Here. _

 

Patrick and Spongebob stood in front of her to block her vision.

 

\--

“I’ve figured it out!” Sandy called as she rushed into the kitchen, hunched over to keep the papers in her arms from falling. Her pa half- looked over his shoulder, keeping one eye on the pie in the oven, her ma’s head popping up through the window- she must have been burying acorns, she always liked to get a start on that early. Randy didn’t bother looking up from his knots at all, but she knew he was paying attention. “I’ve figured it out, y’all!” she repeated.

 

“I’ve figured out how I can get to my karate tournament from the science fair in time!”

 

Her pa’s sigh, ma’s “oh Sandy…,” and the apologetic look Randy shot her before running from the room told her her family was not nearly as thrilled as she had hoped they would be. She wasn’t surprised given how their last few family dinners had gone whenever either subject came up, but she couldn’t say she wasn’t disappointed. 

 

“Okay, I’ve crunched the numbers, and as long as I’m wearing my Karate gear and add thrusters to my bike, as long as I can present my project first-”

 

“Sandy, sweetie…,” her ma began, “...Aren’t you tired from all these extracurricular activities?”

 

“No, ma.” They had gone through this at least twice over dinner last night.

 

“You aren’t feeling stretched thin? At all?”

 

“No.”

 

“Well we are.”

 

“Sandy, listen,” her pa cut in before she could respond, “goodness knows we’re prouder than a dozen lion prides at how talented you are, but this really is a bit much.”

 

“But yain’t the one whos doing them. I’m handling them fine-”

 

“For now,” her ma turned to her pa. “Honey, can you talk to her while I wash up?” She disappeared from the window.

 

Well, that's foreboding. “What does she mean by ‘for now’?”

 

“It’s not that we don’t believe you’ve got a grasp on things,” her pa crouched down, placing an oven-mitted hand on her shoulder, “It’s just- Karate _ and _ science? Rodeo  _ and _ guitar? You’re just one squirrel. You can’t be everywhere at once-”

 

“Now just wait-”

 

“Your ma and I are  _ tired _ shuttling you from everywhere to everywhere, and your poor brother either has to tag along and miss out on his own activities, or wait for hours for one of your aunts or uncles to pick him up.”

 

“I could-”

 

“No, Sandy, you can’t. Your mother and I are being burnt out by all this, and we’re frankly afraid you’re a burn out waiting to happen-”

 

“ _ Pa! _ ”

 

“Sandy, please, let me finish,” despite this, he hesitated. “... Sometime, in life, you just need to settle. Pick karate like your mother, or rodio like Randell, just- pick  _ something  _ and stick with it.”

 

“But pa, I can’t. I love them all so mu-”

 

“At your last birthday party, your ma and I couldn’t help but notice all the critters that showed up were Randy’s friends.”

 

“...They were my friends, too.”

 

“Half of them didn’t even know you and Randy are twins.”

 

“We aren’t that close, but-”

 

“Sandy, be honest with your old man: do you have any close friends?”

 

Sandy’s eyes welled with tears and she tried desperately to blink them away. 

 

“You don’t, do you, sweetie,” his tone was sad. She hated it.

 

“We just think you’ll be happier, with one thing to focus on,” her ma said from behind her, “You can always have side-hobbies, but please, Sandy, pick one thing and stick with it.”

 

She had dropped most of the papers as her parents talked. She looked down at her feet at them- notes, calculations, lists. One of the papers still in her hand was an old test she must have picked up in her rush. It had a sticker- a sea star, her teacher’s gold star stickers had been damaged by coffee, she remembered- with the words “Keep Shining!” written by it.

 

What was she supposed to say? Why did she have to pick?  _ Who needs friends anyway? _

 

“The ocean.”

 

“We live in Texas, Sandy, pick again.”

 

“The ocean,” she repeated, crossing her arms.

 

“Sandy, seriously-”

 

“I’m as serious as a racehorse with a broken leg. Either I get the ocean, or I keep at what I’m doing.”

 

“Sandra Jennifer Cheeks, you don’t even-”

“Pa!” Randy called, bursting through the doorway like she had earlier. “The pies!”

 

Her parents cried out in alarm, finally noticing the smoke coming from the oven. Sandy slipped out while they were distracted.

 

“Thanks,” she mutter to her brother.

 

Randy shrugged. “Uh, for the record, the rodeo would be happy to have you full time.”

 

Sandy purposefully and forcefully bumped into him as she pushed past him to her room.

 

\--

Sandy walked numbly between Patrick and Spongebob, mentally calculating how long it would be before she could clean that filth from her dome. Her and the boys would be part of the crew to repair the Krusty Krab- that probably wouldn’t take longer than a few days, given how often they’ve had to do so before and the fact Patrick still had many followers willing to do anything they ask. After that- well she and the boys could probably chip their way through it between other repair projects.

 

Patrick’s arm brushed against hers, and a spark of annoyance went through her. She shouldn’t be broken up over some paint- not if she was going to stay in Bikini Bottom. This wasn’t even the first time she’s had to deal with anti-Land Mammals sea creatures. She’s been the butt of jokes- even from her own friends- looked down upon when she needed to rely on her oxygen suit, and had her input dismissed time and again simply because she was different. She loved her boys, but she didn’t need them to protect her from _ this _ .  _ This _ was too big, too frequent to be protected from anyway.

 

She opened her mouth to try to tell them this when Patrick spoke over her.

 

“Isn’t that that newscaster?”

 

It was early enough in the morning that they hadn’t passed many people on the way to and from her houses. Most of the repairs would start around noon, and she wasn’t the only creature who hadn’t slept a wink the night before the volcano was scheduled to go off. Save a few determined joggers, other fish checking to see the damage on their own homes, and Perch Perkins it seemed, they were alone.

 

Spongebob immediately waved at him, but he was too distracted speaking into his ear piece to notice.

“-Johnny, I have given my life to this job, and I almost lost it over this, if that doesn’t prove- yes I know how I look- the news takes priority-”

 

“You doing okay, Perch?” Spongebob called. He whirled around, and they all collectively winced at the bruise on his jaw, standing stark against his otherwise once again pristine appearance.

 

“You three are the ones who saved us, correct?” They nodded. “Wonderful, I was hoping to schedule an interview with you- Especially the remarkable sponge who made it the the top of Mt. Humongous.”

 

“Aw shucks,” Spongebob rubbed the back of his neck, “It was Sandy who built the Eruptor-Interruptor, and Patrick who got us back in time.”

 

Perch Perkins waved his hand in response. “Anyway, I’m fine, though my associate, The Realistic Fish Head, seems to disagree. I’m out here getting footage of the damage.” He nodded at his camera.

 

Spongebob’s eyes lit up. “You guys go on ahead,” he told them, I’d like to talk to Perch for a second.”

 

“A  _ second _ -second?” Patrick asked.

 

“Well, no- I’ll meet you at home.” He gun fingered at Patrick, who shot him back a thumbs up, turned on his heel and all but skipped to Perch Perkins.

 

“Hey, Sandy, I was meaning to ask,” Patrick threw an arm over her shoulder and began walking like it as the most natural thing in the world. “Can I keep that jet pack? It’s so handy and cool!” And any annoyance Sandy felt at them dissipated.

 

\--

Sandy’s ears perked up at a pair of familiar footsteps behind her, and she smiled to herself. When the hand handed on her shoulder, she immediately grasped it and flipped the person attracted to in onto her bed.

 

“ _ Ahh- why?! _ ”

 

“Shoot, Randy, I thought you were ma.”

 

Her brother sat up rubbing his arm. “Least you didn’t put me in a neck brace.”

 

Sandy cringed. “Are y’all ever gonna let me live that down? I was like twelve.” Not to mention the fact that the poor rodeo clown only needed the brace for a few weeks. Randy only chuckled in response.

 

“Ma’ll be happy to know that astronaut suit of yours hasn’t affected your reflexes.”

 

“Its technically not an astronaut suit, since I ain’t going to space.”

 

“You look like ya are. Just look.” He stood beside her pointing to the mirror that hung inside her now otherwise empty closet. “Heh, ain’t we a pair?”

 

Sandy snorted at the squirrels reflected back at her: one in jeans and boots, a cowboy hat on his head, the other in an oxygen suit and helmet.  _ You’d never know we were kin _ , she was about to say, but something stopped her. She felt slightly off kilter the longer she stared at it, like the image itself was  _ off _ somehow.

 

“Come on, put some real clothes on and come down stairs. You should hear pa talk, ‘another Cheeks for the history books, we’re so proud.’”

 

Sandy hummed in response, puzzling out _ why _ their relation looked wrong.

 

“...We are, you know,” Randy went on. “You really showed everyone, going above and beyond like this. Makes all the sleep you cost us- and will cost us- worth it.”

 

“Aw shucks, Randy, stop,” Sandy tore her eyes to her brother. “Don’t make me cry with this thing on, I’ll have to flush the tears out so I don’t drown.”

 

Instead of chuckling like she had expected, her brother shuttered.

 

“I know you know this,” he said, “but there-”

 

“There’s a place for me at the rodeo, yeah.”

 

“It’s just, well… won’t you feel cut off, having to wear that all the time? It looked like being caught in a fishbowl.”

 

She had thought the same thing at first, but hearing it come from her brother made it sound downright horrifying. 

 

“I’ll find a way to breath without it.”

 

“Well… If anyone could do it, you’d be the one.” Somehow, his tone didn’t sound encouraging. It seemed like a foregone conclusion, like it was something that needed to be wearily accepted. Funny how often she had heard that tone from the people around her.

 

“Just don’t go forgetting Texas, now,” his tone lightened.

 

“As if I could ever forget. ‘ Honor the Texas flag; I pledge allegiance to thee-’”

 

Randy laughed. “Enough of that for a lifetime. Shoot, I bet you’ll being missing Texas before you even leave-”

 

“Alright _ , get. _ Let me change in piece,” she shoved her brother out, strange relief flooding her as she closed the door. Funny how often _ she _ had felt that when around her loved ones and peers.

 

She looked in the mirror one last time- she looked so much more natural without her brother next to her- before changing into jeans and a flannel identical to what he had been wearing. Her pa had helped her pack, and she suspected he had planned this.

 

She only had two suitcases on her: one with immediate essentials and a few photos she wanted to make sure to hold onto, the other to hold the oxygen suit. Everything else had been sent out to Bikini Bottom already.

 

She had actually done it. While she hadn’t been able to combine science and karate, she had worked the ocean into her life, and now she had been chosen to study an undersea town.

 

She went down stairs, a suitcase in each hand, to her goodbye party. “Bye-Bye Sandy!” was written on a banner hanging from the ceiling, a cake shaped like texas with frosting palm trees and fish decorating it sat on the table her parents had dragged from the kitchen. Her pa and aunt Rosie were deep in a conversation about oil, her ma had her head thrown back in laughter at something Randy had said, and the off kilter feeling reapered ten fold. This time she had idea why. 

 

She didn’t fit in this picture. Remove the banner and this could be any family get together. Everyone looked like they were made for each other, like she was an extra puzzle piece to an already complete puzzle.

 

_ “Bye-Bye Sandy!” _

 

She took a breath to steady herself and walked into the room, her family instantly flocking her to tell her how proud they were and how much they would miss her. She missed them already.

 

\--

They ended up sitting on the floor in front of Spongebob’s couch again, watching Gary practicing flipping on his new skateboard. 

 

“It's a shame that Electric Skates band didn’t stick around. Gary might’ve gotten a few tips from them.”

 

“Gary,” Patrick said, “is a strong, independent snail who don’t need no skate instructor.”

 

Sandy chuckled before they lapsed once more into silence. Despite considering Patrick one of her best friends, Sandy realized she rarely hung out with just him. Spongebob was usually involved in some way.

 

Still, she had felt Patrick’s absence herself when he had left them for his followers, like a single lost tooth.

 

Something brushed against her leg. “Meow.”

 

“Oh, hey there Gary. What’cha got there?”

 

He pushed the skateboard towards them with one of his eyes, a thick book laying upon it. A scrapbook. Of course Spongebob would have a scrapbook. 

 

“Aw, little guy, you wanna take a trip down memory lane?”

 

“Or show off some embarrassing pictures of Spongebob as revenge for almost forgetting to feed you again?” Patrick pipped in.

 

This time, Gary’s “meow” was muffled by something he had picked up with his mouth.

 

“...Or do you want us to add that picture to the photo album for Spongebob?” Sandy asked, bemused, as she took the picture from him. It was the one of them Spongebob had taken the day before, and not a very good one at that. The lower third of her face was hidden by the cape she had been using as a blanket, Patrick wasn’t even looking at the camera, and Gary had been caught mid-blink. Still, she had to admit, it wasn’t a bad one either. At least everyone was in frame and not blurred.

 

“When did he even print this?”

 

“Meow.”

 

“You printed it?”

 

“He’s a handy snail,” Patrick pointed out.

 

Patrick opened the album to a seemingly random page- or not so random, if the wrinkles in the album’s spine said anything- and they stared back from the picture pasted there. It was taken not long after they had become friends, she remembered. They had been at her treedome, her boys wearing their water helmets (thanks to hours of studying fish, mermaid, and Mermaidman’s anatomy, trial and error, and two tiny clear tubes in her nostril, Sandy hasn’t needed her oxygen suit to exist in Bikini Bottom, but she hasn’t quite found a way for sea creatures like her friends to exist full time on land). Only the left half of Spongebob’s face is in frame in this one, she and Patrick are in the background at her picnic table, neither of them noticing him taking the picture yet.

 

When she had tried to suplex him as revenge the next day, he had been prepared and they had spared for a good ten minutes before calling it a draw.

 

“You guys sure spent a lot of time at my treedome.” It occurred to her that she rarely visited either of their homes before this.

 

“Well, it was different,” Patrick responded simply. Somehow, coming from him,  _ different _ didn’t sound like _ other _ .

 

Sandy flipped through the book, trying to find a blank page, and catching glimpses of herself and her boys as she did so, mixed in with several pictures of Squidward and Gary.

 

Just as she found one, Spongebob’s phone began to ring. She passed the album to Patrick and went to answer it.

 

“Squarepants residence, Sandy Cheek speaking. Spongebob isn’t here right now.”

 

A familiar chirpy laugh answered her. “Of course he isn’t there, Sandy, he’s right here.”

 

“Spongebob, what are you doing calling your own house?”

 

“I think yours and Patrick’s phones are dead.”

 

Right, they probably were. She hadn’t thought to charge hers the day before. She winced to herself- her parents had been busy the last few weeks and likely hadn’t known about Mt. Humongous’s near eruption, her brother Randy informed her. He himself hadn’t known until he had tuned in to their celebration concert by chance. They probably knew now, and likely had been frantically trying to contact her- she could already see the strongly worded letter her auntie would be sending her for making them worry. She’d plug it in as soon as they were done talking.

 

“So anyway,” Spongebob went on, “I’m here with Perch and the Mayor- she really nice, by the way, once you talk to her-” Sandy heard what sounded like a sarcastic laugh come through the phone “-and I want you to know that your treedome should be good as new by tomorrow evening at the latest, and that you- and Patrick- are welcome to stay at my place until then.”

 

“Wha- Spongebob, what did you do?”

 

“Well, I had tried to get Perch to broadcast me asking for volunteers to help clean things up, but then the Mayor showed up and was like ‘I’ve got a better idea!’ And so we looked over Perch’s footage from the last few day, and the Mayor is going to ask anyone who was in the mob to help us clean up- she’s going to help also.”

 

Sandy heard someone cough out “PR stunt” followed by a “Stop calling it take!” through the phones. 

 

Spongebob lowered his voice, “I don’t think Perch Perkins had forgiven the Mayor for gagging and attacking him.”

 

Sandy blinked, momentarily confused for some reason.

 

“Anyway,” Spongebob’s tone was back to normal, “Can you guys take care of the Krusty Krab without me for now? Larry and I are gonna be overseeing things.”

 

It dawned upon her. “Sponge-”

 

“I-I know you can handle this Sandy. It’s just- I don’t think I can handle it. If I can help it, you will  _ never _ see words like that again. I promise I wouldn’t impose if I didn’t know for sure they were getting you down.”

 

“Spongebob-”

 

“I was gonna surprise you, but I was planning on letting you handle the trash any way you wanted- blowing it up, using it for experiments, whatever. Just- can I help, Sandy? Please?”

 

“You didn’t say ‘yet.’”

 

“Uh… What?”

 

“You said Perch Perkins hasn’t forgiven the Mayor. You didn’t say he hasn’t forgiven her _ yet _ .”

 

“Oh. Well…” His voice lowered again, “I know  _ I  _ would, but… I dunno, Sandy. You and Perch- I don’t want you guys to stay upset forever, but… I know it’s up to you to decide whether to forgive them.”

 

Sandy felt her throat tighten. “Okay. You can take care of this. Thanks for checking with me first.”

 

“Anytime. Is Patrick there? I’d like to say hi real quick.”

 

“Yeah he’s- Patrick how in tarnation did you glue your knees together?!” 

 

She handed the phone off to him and knelt to make sure the picture had made it in the album right- it had, if a little crookedly. It fit the _ natural _ feeling the picture gave off, somehow.

 

_ You belong with us _ , Spongebob had said.

 

Sitting in his house, photo album in lap, one of her jabbering to the other over the phone, she had to agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy howdy, these chapters are turning out Way longer than I intend.  
> Anywho, the amount of time I have spent skimming the SpongeBob wiki would greatly disappoint my friends. (Heck, if they even knew about this fic, they would prolly disown me)  
> -I couldn't not reference the Texas flag pledge. For the curious: https://www.tsl.texas.gov/ref/abouttx/flagpledge.html


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case the people in the back didn't hear, I'll say it again: Racism is Wrong

“So…” the Mayor appeared next to Spongebob, “how well do you know Poppy?”

 

A pang of guilt went through Spongebob’s chest- he thought he knew everyone in town. “Uh… Poppy who?”

 

“Poppy Puff, the boating instructor. You’re a student of hers, correct?”

 

“Oh- oh!” Spongebob sighed in relief, “Oh of course- she’s an amazing teacher, she’s always super encouraging-”

 

“She likes coffee?”

 

“I think she’s only recently begun drinking coffee- something about how it helps her ‘cope with the stress’ or sometime of teaching me.”

 

“Is… is there a Mr. Puff in the picture?”

 

“Not anymore-”

 

“Oh good- I-I mean, how tragic, poor Popp-”

 

“-Though she and Mr. Krabs have been on a few dates together.”

 

“Oh,” the Mayor deflated slightly, “...Are the serious?”

 

“Funny,” Perch said, walking by, “I thought I was the one who did the interviews around here.”

 

“Funny,” the Mayor shot back, “I thought you were supposed to be on vacation.”

 

Perch paused. “Well, you can never know when there’ll be a news story to report. A charity event to highlight, a volcanic disaster, a government figure abusing their power…”

 

The Mayor narrowed her eyes.

 

“Should I intervene-” Spongebob began.

 

“No need,” Perch said, “I was just passing by to get a quick word with Larry- he was your enforcer, wasn’t he, Ms. Mayor?”

 

“Mr. Squarepants, we’ll continue this later,” the Mayor said.

 

Spongebob backed away, watching them from the corner of his eye. Thankfully, they didn’t stay to bicker more- Perch walked towards Larry like he said he would, the Mayor going in the other direction.

 

Sandy hadn’t really wanted them there, but relented when Perch promised not to bring his camera. He was only collecting statements, then he’d head back into town to cover the repairs  there. Spongebob wasn’t really sure why the Mayor insisted on being there herself- Perch had been saying it was a “PR stunt” between bouts of coughing the day before (he stopped when his bruised ribs began protesting), but Spongebob believed she was there to help as much as she could.

 

They had taken care of the litter and rocks the mob had thrown Sandy’s dome during the panic caused by Mt. Humongous the day before, and towed away the crashed boat earlier that morning. All that was left was the graffiti, which should be cleaned away before lunch, then everyone could leave.

 

Spongebob was looking forward to leaving- he and Larry were technically “supervisors,” with most of the clean up done the members of the mob they had identified from Perch’s doom’s day footage. He had tried to help, but every time, some apologetic citizen would insist they would handle- Old Man Jenkins had even threatened him with his cane, asking if he thought they couldn’t take care of it because most of them weren’t as young as he was. Once the last bit of graffiti was cleaned away, he could help with the Krusty Krab and any house repairs he could.

 

He didn’t even know what he and Larry were supervising for- so far they had mostly walked around and watched the clean up crew, and talked about Pearl’s new band. Still, he told himself, he would be the best supervisor he could be. Nothing- and he meant nothing- would escape his notice.

 

“Ouch- _watch it_!”

 

“Sorry Plankton! I didn’t see you there.” Spongebob held out a hand to help Plankton back up- he had been so lost in himself, he had accidentally knocked him over.

 

Plankton huffed, ignoring his hand and standing on his own. “Didn’t see me- sure, yeah, not like _I’m_ the one with the blind spot,” he muttered under his breath. Spongebob reached out to at least help brush the dust off him when he noticed something. Plankton wasn’t wearing his suit jacket for once.

 

“Hey, Plankton,” Spongebob grinned, “suspender buddies.” He thumbed his own.

 

“I thought we made clear that _we_ are not buddies.” Plankton picked up his rag and began scrubbing the paint with fervor.

 

“Oo I know- we could be sweatervest buddies, too! I could ask my grandmother to knit you a green one! Though I’m pretty sure sweatervests and… and those...not-collar-”

 

“Mandarin collar.”

 

“Right- I’m pretty sure they don’t usually go together, but you could pull it off.”

 

“Well, I did do a few modeling gigs back in coll- nope. No. Spongebob, I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing matching sweatervests with you.”

 

Spongebob shrugged, making a mental note to get him one anyway for the holidays.

 

“What are you doing here, by the way?” Spongebob asked, leaning against the dome. He subtly tried to rub his elbow against it- he had a feeling Plankton wouldn’t mind him helping clean it, but he didn’t want to risk being told off again. “You weren’t here yesterday.”

 

“I didn’t have court ordered community service yesterday.”

 

“ _Suuuuure_ you didn’t.”

 

“Why are you smi- What are _you_ even doing here?”

 

“I helped organize this.”

 

“Of course you di- stop smiling like that.”

 

“And you were on the list to help clean up yesterday. But you didn’t show up,” Spongebob somehow grinned even wider, “Sooo… why did you show up today?”

 

Plankton scrubbed harder, turning his head so Spongebob was facing the eyepatched side.

 

“You felt bad, didn’t yo-”

 

“I am _evil_ . I don’t feel _bad_ ,” Plankton snapped. “I wasn’t even part of that angry mob-”

 

“But you did kinda start it.”

 

“All I did,” Plankton turned to face him again, “was say what they were already thinking to get them on my side.”

 

“You did a bad thing.” Spongebob’s grin was gone.

 

“Because that’s what evil geniuses do-”

 

“Plankton,” Spongebob put a hand on his shoulder, “Sandy could have died.”

 

“She could have died when you idiots decided to climb that volcano. Or when it erupted. _Or_ when Karen and I used the Avalanche-”

 

“But we didn’t. We weren’t even really hurt. This,” Spongebob gestured vaguely around them, “is hurting her.”

 

“...So you’re just going to overlook the direct murder attempt?”

 

“Plankton-”

 

“Nice try, fry cook,” Plankton shrugged Spongebob’s hand off. “I just said a few things to get people to listen to me for once. _They_ are the ones who did _this_.”

 

Spongebob sighed, pulling out a rag he had picked up earlier and turning to properly wash the dome. If he was going to stand there with Plankton, he might as well _do_ something.

 

“...You two probably have a lot in common, you know?” He said.

 

“I doubt it.”

 

“Well, you’re both scientists-”

 

“I am an _evil genius_ , _not_ a _Scientist_ . One is an occupation, the other is a _lifestyle_.”

 

“I didn’t know you could get paid to be an evil genius.”

 

“No, that not- why I am wasting my breath on a bumbling buffoon like you?”

 

“How do you make money, anyway?” It just occurred to Spongebob that, given how rarely somebody actually bought something from the Chum Bucket, Plankton had to make money some other way. “Do you sell your inventions?”

 

“Sometimes Karen does, but usually…” now Plankton was the one grinning. He looked around, then lowered his voice. “...Usually, I sale musical bootlegs.”

 

Spongebob gasped.

 

(Meanwhile, at the Krusty Krab, Squidward paused his half-hearted hammering to shutter.)

 

“Plankton, that’s illegal!”

 

“I know.”

 

“...If you became a sci-”

 

“Don’t even start, fry cook.”

 

“You guys could be friends.”

 

“I don’t need friends. All friends do is _stab_ you in the _back_ and _leave you to rot_.” Plankton’s scowl was back. “You should know that by now.”

 

Spongebob shook his head. “Patrick apologized and came back when I needed him. I apologized, too, and Sandy and I are going to start listening to him more. One fight does not have to mean the end of a relationship.” Plankton turned away again. “Besides, aren’t you and Karen friends?”

 

“Karen is my wife.”

 

“Isn’t there more to marriage than just being, you know, married?”

 

Plankton was quiet long enough for Spongebob to open his mouth to try again.

 

“...I think we’re becoming friends, again. I hope so.” Plankton said that last part under his breath, as if he hoped Spongebob wouldn’t hear it. “We’re working on it.”

 

Spongebob beamed. “That’s great! You know, a support network-”

 

Plankton reached up, trying to reach a graffitied sentence just above them. “Oh, can it already. Look, I hate everyone equally. Not based on race. Not based on origin. Not based on anything _but_ the fact that they’re all a bunch of interfering morons and they hate me too.”

 

“I don’t hate you.”

 

“You don’t hate anyone. Anyway, if you’re trying to change someone’s mind on your little friend’s worth, you are preaching at the wrong guy. Look.” Plankton pointed at a group of guppies muttering under their breath and shooting Spongebob angry looks. When they saw he was looking, they all turned away.

 

An instant later, Larry ran up to them with a “Hey! What did we say- we do not tolerate that kind of talk here in Bikini Bottom! Break it up, for the last time!”

 

Spongebob had seen Larry break up the same group three times the day before, and he himself had tried to talk to them after everyone had disbanded for the day.

 

“I just said what they were thinking. Because I’m evil. They acted on what I said. Because they _believe_ it.”

 

Spongebob watched the guppies break apart under Larry’s eye. One of them didn’t even bother to hide a glare when they walked past him.

 

“Plankton… Just… just because you didn’t mean it doesn’t mean you can pretend it didn’t cause all this damage-”

 

“Would you just _stop_ .” Plankton threw his rag on the ground and stomped on it. “Ugh, how is _anybody_ supposed to _reach_ that!”

 

For a moment, Spongebob thought Plankton meant he was being held to a higher standard that he could possibly reach- he wasn’t, but Spongebob was sure he could, if he tried- before looking up.

 

_Land Creatures Don’t Belong Here_. He had seen Sandy staring sadly at it the previous morning, before he had the idea to organize a clean up. It was written higher than even someone like Larry could reach.

 

“Here,” Spongebob handed Plankton his rag and crouched down slightly, “I’ll give you a boost.”

 

Plankton looked from Spongebob to the grafiti and back before huffing out “As long as I’m not the one being stepped on this time.”

 

Plankton braced a hand against the dome, the other clutching Spongebob’s head as he threw his leg over Spongebob’s shoulder. Spongebob lifted him up and wrapped his hand around Plankton’s ankles.

 

“Stable?” Spongebob asked.

 

“I have never felt less stable in my life.”

 

“I got you, don’t worry.”

 

Plankton was silent for a few moments as he began scrubbing the words away.

 

“...Would she even forgive me?”

 

“Maybe. _Maybe_ not. You don’t apologize for forgiveness, Plankton. You apologize because you did something wrong and feel bad about it. You know that right.”

 

“Villains do not apologize,” was all he said.

 

A few more moments of “left,” “right a bit,” “drop me, and I was give them a reason to arrest me,” then“There is not way I can reach the rest of that.”

 

“Stand on my shoulders. I promise I got you.”

 

With shaky legs, Plankton did so.

 

“Okay,” Plankton said after some more silence, “I think I got everyth- _don’t let go of me!_ ”

 

Spongebob stumbled back when Plankton shifted his weight to much. He dropped his hands and twisted around as quickly as he could, catching Plankton around the waist before he could

 

“See,” Spongebob said, “I got you.”

 

Plankton pushed away from him. “Okay, I’m done.”

 

“I think everyone is, actually.” Sure enough, save a few smudged streaks, the graffiti was gone. “You can go. Larry and I’ll dismiss everybody in a moment.”

 

Plankton turned with another scowls, before pausing in his tracks. “Tha- th- I… appreciate you catching me.”

 

“Aw, what’re friends for?”

 

“You are not my friend.”

 

“Well, you are mine. Tell Karen I said hi!”

 

Spongebob grinned once more at his soft “...Will do” before turning on his heels. He should find the Mayor before everyone leaves- she seemed really interested in Mrs. Puff, and it didn’t seem right to leave things hanging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I couldn't find a canon first name for Mrs. Puff, but from what I've found, "Poppy" is pretty common fanon.  
> \--https://www.instagram.com/p/Be6IoxPDANE/?taken-by=spongebobbway leaves this here


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tuesday (3/20/18) was Norooz, the Persian New Year.   
> One of the traditional things to do is get some fish for the holiday (another traditional thing is to eat fish and rice, which, in all honesty, I'm not that big a fan of. I try to drown mine in lemon juice. But, ah, lets not talk about that here), so my father picked up five goldfish the night before.  
> One, promptly, died right away, and the other two were Gone by the time I woke up the next morning.  
> So, in memory of those three dearly departed fish, here's something on the fluffier side.  
> \--  
> Sometimes, a family is a teenaged whale, her crab father, and his fry cook sponge employee.

Pearl threw herself onto her bed, covering her face with a pillow. Her fingers stung from where she cut them earlier on broken glass from the window shattered a week ago in the riots. With the Krusty Krab repaired thanks to the help of Patrick’s cult ( _ were _ they a cult? They didn’t seem all to organized, not once the panic passed, but she had overheard a few of them referring to Patrick as their “savior” _ before  _ he actually helped save anyone, and Spongebob and Sandy kept calling them his “followers”), her father had finally tackled it, insisting she at least learn how to do it.

 

She had helped remove the wooden planks he had used to temporarily cover the hole left by the window, before setting her hand on the window sash- right on the broken glass still in the frame.

 

Spongebob had shown up right in time to hear her rendition of her father’s “confrontation” with Karen’s husband, Mr. Plankton, when he had accidentally revealed he had done something evil related to the volcano. After sending her a look of shock and horror, he explained he felt guilty for not helping more with the Krusty Krabs’s restoration (he had been on par with half of Patrick’s “Followers” once he had finished heading the clean up on Sandy’s treedome) and wanted to help.

 

She had spend the rest of the afternoon sulking on the couch after cleaning and bandaging her hand, watching as he and her father replaced the window.

 

She felt a dip on the bed, followed by a high pitched “Pearl?”

 

“Spongebob,” She shot back up, pillow falling in her lap, and placed her uninjured hand on his shoulder. “I swear, I am going to die of boredom.”

 

He took her hand and placed to fingers on her wrist. “I agree, Ms. Krabs, your condition is critical.” He tried and failed to keep a straight face.

 

“I’m serious. Changing that window was the most exciting thing that happened to me this week.”

 

“Didn’t you have your first band meeting saturday? Hanging out with Squidward is always a blast.”

 

“That was  _ technically _ last week, and all we really did was talk about band names and what _ style  _ we should go for. We didn’t even decide on anything but like two songs we should cover.

 

“Spongebob, school starts again on wednesday, and they are going to  _ drown _ us in homework to make up for all the time we missed. I am wasting my last days of freedom on watching people fix things and reading textbooks- which I will be doing more of in school.”

 

“If you’re worried about drowning, I’m sure Sandy can help-”

 

She threw herself back onto the bed. “I am going to die of boredom.”

 

“At least Mr. Krabs didn’t ground you longer for swearing. Your grandmother would’ve.”

 

“I guess, but that’s only because he knows I learned it from him. I miss hanging out with my friends.”

 

“But isn’t Mr. Krabs letting text them? And aren’t  _ I _ your friend?”

 

“Well, yeah, but texting and going to the mall or skatepark and just  _ hanging out _ together are different. And you’re more of a kinda-sorta brother than anything.”

 

Spongebob was silent for a moment before jumping off her bed and throwing open her closet. “We can still hang out. Come on, makeover time.”

 

He pulled on her old blonde wig- when she had turned thirteen, she had tried to bleach and straighten her hair, accidentally damaging it so badly she had to cut all of it off. She had worn the wig until a little after her fifteenth birthday, when it fell off during a sleepover. Her father had made a big deal of her natural hair being beautiful, and her friends immediately joined in, playing keep away with it until she had “agreed” to go to school once without it.

 

Secretly, she had been glad she hadn’t needed to bother with the wig cap and bobby pins anymore.

 

On Spongebob, it looked ridiculous- the ponytail was crooked and slightly matted from being in her overstuffed closet for so long, with his naturally gingery-blonde hair popping out at the base of his neck and at his bangs.

 

Pearl couldn’t hold back a snort. “Okay, okay, take that thing off- and that sweatervest while you’re at it. You pull those new suspenders you like so much off so much better.”

 

Spongebob gasped in mock hurt. “Pearl Krabs, my grandmother knitted this for me with her own two hands. Besides, it fits my personality, don’t you think?”

 

Pearl rolled her eyes and began rummaging through the back of her closet, where her middle school clothes, impulse buys, and any other outfit she didn’t- or couldn’t- wear often or at all was shoved. While her current ensemble was  _ so much _ better, none of it would really fit Spongebob- sizewise or fashionwise, though he did look alright in that one frilly dress of hers.

 

“Wow, you really do have a lot of clothes,” Spongebob said.

 

Pearl shrugged. “Daddy doesn’t believe in getting rid of things we don’t really need anymore. He’s kinda a hoarder. Which,” a familiar mix of guilt and anxiety settled in Pearl’s gut, “is pretty common in poor and formerly poor people, I hear.”

 

When Spongebob didn’t comment, she went on. “I read it’s because you never know when you might need something, and when you don’t have money, you can’t go out a buy a new thing, so it’s better to keep the old thing, just in case.

 

“Spongebob, do you think daddy should… see someone?” It wasn’t the first time she had wondered if her family might benefit from seeing a counselor or therapist, but recently the thought had occurred to her more and her- especially after her father admitted his money problem was more or less a bad coping mechanism. 

 

“Well, there doesn't need to be something wrong to get help. A few weeks ago, Squidward said I should see a shrink, and I think he tries to see a therapist every few months. Patrick’s followers seemed to really benefit from having someone to listen to them, too.”

 

Pearl hummed in response, before finding the perfect outfit. She pulled it out and held it up to Spongebob’s chest.

 

It was a sleeveless dress with a white peter pan collar and matching belt. The top half was pastel pink, with the skirt fading into an orange The gradient had reminded her of a sunset, and she had bought it for some party between middle and high school- which she didn’t even wear it to. She hadn’t been confident enough to show off her arms then, and couldn’t find a jacket to go with it.

 

She had skipped out on the party to watch romcoms and superhero movies with her dad.

 

_ ‘We used to be so close.’ _

 

“Here, try this. I’ll see if I have any makeup that’ll work for you.” She wouldn’t be able to use any foundations or blushes on him- their skin colors and textures (his was soft, almost squishy, with half of his freckles actually being pinpricks and holes, while hers was almost stony)- and there wasn’t really much point in using mascara on him, given how long his eyelashes already were, but she could probably work with eyeliner and maybe eyeshadow.

 

He nodded and went to her bathroom.

 

She began rummaging through her makeup drawer- She was pretty sure she still had a makeup pallet with orange she had never used- she had gotten it for the pinks it offered. Hopefully, if she found it, there would still be some pink left- she could make a gradient effect to match the dress.

 

Behind her, she heard a knock, followed by “Pearlie, Spongeboy, dinner’s read- oh.” Her father poked his head in through her door. “Where on earth did Spongebob go?”

 

“Bathroom.”

 

“Ah, anyway, dinner’s ready.” He squinted at the wall behind her. “...Didn’t ye have more posters of that boy band.”

 

She didn’t need to turn around to know what he meant- She had taken down all but one of her Electric Skates posters, putting the other three under her bed (she really needed to do something about her closet). She had moved her Boys Who Cry amd Off The Hook posters from her other wall next to it, to make it seem less alone.

 

Pearl shrugged. “It was kinda sucky how they abandoned us like that, I guess. Spongebob’s staying for dinner?”

 

“Well… it was the least I could do after…”

 

“After he fixed the window for us?”

 

“What- no, that was his idea’r. I mean after I sent him to talk to ye for me.”

 

“You asked him to-”

 

“Well, you two are closer than ye are to me, it sometimes seems.”

 

That mixer of guilt and anxiety was back.

 

“I mean,” her father went on, “it makes sense. The boy’s still basically a teenager himself-”

 

“Daddy, do you want to do makeovers with us?”

 

Her father held up his claws in alarm. “Pearl, sweetie, let’s not be hasty- I mean, the least time ye tried to give me one of your makeovers-”

 

“You’re doing makeovers with us, Mr. Krabs?” 

 

Pearl held back a laugh- her father had jumped a solid foot in the air when Spongebob spoke behind him. 

 

“So, what do you guys think?” Spongebob asked when her father moved aside.

 

Pearl would have clapped her hands in delight if she hadn’t cut her fingers. “Amazing! I knew that dress was perfect!”

 

It showed off his arms nicely- fourteen year old her would have been super jealous- and while his knees did look knobby, it suited him.

 

“Spongebob,” she stood, placing a hand on each of his shoulders, “the second I am ungrounded, I am taking you dress shopping. For now, this is officially yours.”

 

He beamed. “Really?”

 

Pearl almost didn’t answer- this close, she realized he was starting to get deep bags under his eyes, as if he hadn’t been sleeping well for a few days. 

 

It made sense that he wouldn’t be sleeping well, she thought. After all, he had climbed Mt. Humongous- voted Most Likely To Kill You seven years in a row- to stop the apocalypse. Most of her friends haven’t slept well themselves, and she herself had almost stayed up crying in fear, before forcing herself to sleep by telling herself the Electric Skates’s concert would save them.

 

“Absolutely.” 

 

“What do you think, Mr. Krabs?” he asked.

 

Her father shrugged, and she shot him the harshest glare she could without him calling her disrespectful. “Okay, okay, it suits ye, boy.” She turned and crossed her arms, maintaining the glare. “What? I don’t know- it looks  _ fine _ on him.”

 

“Gee, thanks Mr. Krabs. Hang on.” Spongebob reached into the bundle in his arms and pulled out his phone, holding it out. Pearl took her father’s arm and pulled him to Spongebob’s other side in time for her to hold up a peace sign as he snapped a photo.

 

“Okay, you two. Di-” her father began.

 

“Daddy, at least let me paint your claws.  _ Please _ .” Pearl was not about to let him go just yet.“We can watch movies together like we used to.” She looked down. “I kinda miss how close we used to be, too.”

 

“Oh, princess…”

 

Piano music began playing, and both Krabses looked up. Spongebob smiled at them from beside her CD player- he had put on a movie soundtrack she had gotten because a singer she had liked sung the opening and end themes.

 

“I thought it fit the Moment.”

“Cliche much?” Pearl asked, though she was smiling herself- she was allowed to like certain cliches. 

 

She pulled her father to her bed and sat him down. “I am painting your claws,” she said firmly.

 

He looked at her for a moment before chuckling, “Ah, I can never deny ye for long. Go ahead.”

 

She pulled out some green claw polish and claw polish remover- it had been a while since she had been able to paint anybody’s claws, and the polish had hardened slightly. She added a few drops of the polish remover to the polish and shook it with one hand, pulling out some eyeliner for Spongebob with the other.

 

“Alright,” she said, turning around, “who first?”

 

“Dinner’s probably getting cold,” her father said.

 

“Come on, dad…”

 

“Yeah, dad, we can always reheat it later,” Spongebob pointed out.

 

“Did ye really just call me ‘dad’?”

 

“Did I? It was a accident, Mr. Dad.”

 

“That one was on purpose, wasn’t it.”

 

Pearl took one of her father’s claws and began applying the polish, the piano music still playing in the background. “You guys are weird, just so you know.”

 

“You kids are the weird ones,” her father shot back.

 

“I,” Spongebob puffed out his chest, “am _ not _ a kid. I am a  _ man _ .”

 

“I’m basically an adult, too, daddy.”

 

Her father rolled his eyes, then turned to Spongebob and began talking about the Krusty Krab- something about what his duties as manager will be and the possible gains they could get from a holding an opening sale- which she tuned out. 

 

She wasn’t bored anymore, at least. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -If it wasn't super obvious, I know Nothing about makeup. I don't wear it (it just feels gross and Wrong on my skin), and the only makeup I'm interested in (eye stuff), I can't really wear (I... have a small face)  
> -For the record, while I generally prefer the Broadway redesigned costumes, I am very much Team Sweaterbob Squarevest. (http://sunshine-zenith.tumblr.com/post/171639140599/can-we-appreciate-these-costume-designs-for-a)  
> -Freckles are amazing, you can't change my mind.   
> -yes, that was a Splatoon reference with Pearl's posters.  
> -I learned that nail polish trick in middle school, and while its been years since I've worn it myself, I remember it worked for me every time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being so patient. It's been a long week for me.  
> \--
> 
> Couples Therapy with Dr. Star

The sudden _ beep-beep  _ from the kitchen timer roused Patrick from his after-lunch nap. He blinked the sleep from his eyes- or tried to, one of his eyes remained stubbornly glued shut- and pulled himself from his couch to turn it off.

 

There wasn’t anything in the oven. He didn’t put anything in before setting the timer, but he still felt disappointment. It had been a  _ long _ , busy day, he figured he deserved something to eat. He turned to check again, just in case- underwater rocks could be surprisingly flammable, and besides, he knew he could never live with himself if he let an innocent cake burn.

 

Once again, nothing. Once again, disappointment. He shut the oven door. Before he turned to head out- Spongebob’s shift should be almost done at that point, maybe they could grab something to eat together- when he noticed the sticky note on the door.

 

_ LOOK IN MIRROR _

 

Right, now he remembered- he had stuck it there before lunch so he wouldn’t forget- well, he couldn’t quite remember yet. 

 

Back in the living room, he picked up the hand mirror he kept there. He waved into it, just to make sure his reflection would wave back- he  _ swore  _ one time it didn’t, and wanted to be prepared in case it happened (or didn’t happen?) again- before focusing it on his face. There was another sticky note, this time covering his left eye.

 

_ SHELDON+KAREN _

_ COUPLES SESSION IN 15 MIN _

_ “I STATEMENTS” _

 

After his brief stint as a cult leader when Bikini Bottom was nearly destroyed a week and a half ago, people have been coming to him to talk about their problems and maybe get some advice. Mainly his former followers, though just that morning Mrs. Puff had seen him, saying despite her years working to teach fish of all ages to drive, the many towns she’s lived in, her happy marriage before her husband’s death, the number of times she’s had to skip town and change her name, her impressive criminal record, and all the kelppuccinos she’s finally letting herself indulge in, she still doesn’t feel like she’s  _ lived _ .

 

Sandy had questioned whether it was even legal for him to “play therapist” like this, but Spongebob had pointed out that since they had helped save the town and he was only charging in pastries (right, he had almost forgotten about all the cookies and cakes in his fridge. He made a mental note to invite Spongebob over that weekend to eat them), it would probably be okay.

 

Sandy had shook her head and told his to at least remember things like “I Statements” (which he only kinda grasped the concept of: frame your sentences around how you feel from your point of view. At first, he thought it was some sort of word game where you had to use words that start with “i,” like “ice cream,” “imagination,” and “ignite”).

 

Patrick brushed the sticky note off and made sure his hair was alright before putting the mirror in the box of trinkets and toys he kept out for the people who saw him.

 

He jumped when he heard the knock (Spongebob couldn’t possibly be home yet- wait, right, Sheldon and Karen), and pushed his rock up just enough to peek outside. 

 

He heard them before he saw them.

 

“-already here, and this was your idea-”

 

“ _ My _ idea was to talk to Spot-”

 

“Because pets make _ such great _ counselors-”

 

“Spot does-”

 

Plankton and his computer wife were arguing outside his rock. Patrick immediately dropped it and pulled out his phone, calling Sandy (Spongebob had been staying out late recently, either to keep Mr. Krabs’s daughter company and help with her homework, or to help with any home or business repairs still left. Patrick had intentionally tried to forget that- it always made his feel hollow, remembering his best friend probably wouldn’t want to see him when he was so busy).

 

“Yellow,” her voice came through the receiver. 

 

“Pink, actually. This is Pat-”

 

“I know-” a series of popping sounds cut her off, “Sorry ‘bout that- I’m trying to modify this roomba my aunt sent me to mow grass as well, and it’s been fighting me.”

 

“Like it knows kung fu-?”

 

“Like a stressed out toddler being pulled past the candy aisle.”

 

“I got a bunch of cookies if that's what it wants-”

 

“No, Patrick, I mean- oh no, no, no _ nonono _ -” there was another, louder pop, “ _ -No, shoot _ .”

 

“Geez, Sandy, I may not understand much of what you say, but I got the first ‘no’ just fine.”

 

“N- I was hollering at the roomba. I think it’s about to blow- Patrick, I think I oughta go, I’ll call you back after I handle-”

 

“ _ Wait! _ ” Patrick clutched his phone tighter, as if it would somehow convey the severity of the possible situation. Another round of knocks almost made him lose his train of thought- something dangerous in a case like this, “I think Plankton and his wife kidnapped this couple I was supposed to meet with.”

 

There was a sound of something crashing as she said “ _ Those evil _ \- I’m already halfway out the door. Who are you supposed to help today?”

 

“Some married couple named Sheldon and Karen.”

 

Silence, then “Patrick.”

 

“I think that's me, yeah?”

 

“Plankton and his wife  _ are _ Sheldon and Karen.”

 

“Oh,” That, admittedly, made some sense. “Well, how was I supposed to know that?”

 

“Plankton I can understand, but _ everyone _ calls his wife Karen.”

 

“Well, not long ago you spent like an hour explaining that I had nothing to do with St. Patrick- You  _ said  _ different people could have the same name-” Which was just needlessly confusing, in his opinion- what’s the point of using names to differentiate between people if they were all called the same thing?

 

There was another, sharper knock.

 

“Aight Patrick, by your standing that's practically reasonable. Look, I gotta see if I can salvage this thing- maybe it’ll be easier to work with now that I’m not afraid of  _ breaking _ it-”

 

“Hey, before you go,” Patrick braced one hand against the roof of his rock, lifting it enough that Plankton (Sheldon? Karen’s husband?) and his wife would notice. “Wanna hang out later? It’s been without Spongebob- I’ll come by to your place,” he added quickly. Ever since the town formed a mob against her, Sandy had admitted, she hadn’t felt comfortable walking around alone after dark, even if she could easily defend herself.

 

“...Sure. I’ve kinda been missing him, too. And Pat? Remember: ‘I Statements.’” 

 

He ended the call and pushed the rock up completely.

 

“About time,” Plankton growled. “Honestly, even  _ I’m _ better at customer service. We were about to leave-”

 

“No, Sheldon, we weren’t,” Karen sighed. “Come on, let's just get this over with.”

 

Patrick led them over to his couch- they didn’t seem interested in it’s stretchiness. Most people who came to see him usually weren’t, as first- and placed the box of toys in front of them, before settling in his own chair.

 

“So…” Patrick kinda wished he had glasses, just so he could Professionally Adjust them, “Why are you here?”

 

Plankton crossed his legs and stood his puppet on his knee in front of himself. “We’re trying to remember why we bothered to get married in the first place-”

 

“We’re here,” Karen spoke over him, “because  _ he’s _ an insecure, pathological lying, shortsighted manchild-”

 

“Oh joy,  _ here _ we go-”

 

“-who won’t admit the we should be seeing someone actually trained to handle things like this.”

 

Patrick raised his hand, feeling awkward. “Uh, guys?”

 

“You know what? For a wife, you are really unsupportive-”

 

“For a so-called evil genius, you can be really dense.”

 

“We don’t have insurance.  _ You  _ try getting a therapist on our budget-”

 

“ _ I have _ -”

 

Patrick waved his hand. “Guys?”

 

“Right, because you can do everything and  _ don’t need me at all _ -”

 

“ _ I’m here, aren’t I _ -”

 

Patrick pulled out a clapper, waving it up and down. The noise finally got their attention, and the Planktons turned to face him, looking almost surprised, like they had forgotten he was there.

 

“Geez, guys,” Patrick put the toy on his arm rest, just in case, and began digging around in the box to see if there was anything that might relieve the tension. “Are you okay?” Had he and Spongebob started yelling like that when Patrick had temporarily abandoned him for his cult?

 

Plankton shrugged, blinking (winking?) dubiously. Karen crossed and uncrossed her arms.

 

After a moment, Plankton said, “We… we’ve been trying not to fight these past few weeks. I guess... there's been a bit of a build up.”

 

Patrick scratched his head. “Uh. Have you guys  _ talked _ about things instead? Like, at all?”

 

“Well  _ she _ -”

 

“I statements.”

 

“... _ I _ sometimes question whether she- whether anything _ I _ say matters to her-”

 

“Sheldon...,” Karen began.

 

“Bubbles!” Patrick held the bottle in triumph. 

 

The Planktons shared a confused look. “...Bubbles?” 

 

“Yeah,” Patrick pulled out the bubble wand, “They can be tricky if you don’t know the proper technique, but bubbles can really useful in stressful situations- Sandy used them to stop the volcano, and Spongebob made this amazing bubble when we were stuck inside. Try blowing bubbles before you talk.” He came up with the last idea on the spot.

 

Plankton opened and closed his mouth a few times before saying “... _ Bubbles _ ?”

 

“Oh, I think I get it,” Karen took the wand and bottle, “If we blow bubbles before we speak, our partner will know not the talk over us, and it gives us a moment to really consider what we have to say.”

 

“Uh, sure, let’s go with that,” Patrick shrugged.

 

Karen blew into the wand, watched the bubbles for a few second, and said, “I know I called your schemes harebrained. I know sometimes I don’t seem as supportive as I can be. I… Sometimes I don’t feel like you- like I’m being listened to, or given any credit. It's… hard to get invested in something when I feel like I’ll be pushed aside.”

 

She passed the wand to Plankton, who stared at it before huffing and blowing a few bubbles himself. “...It seems like every person I know has left, betrayed, or lost their respect for me. I… guess I assume the same will happen with you eventually. I feel safe around you, and… I’d… I don’t want you to leave. If I shut you out first, maybe it won’t hurt so much when you do.”

 

“I care about you-”

 

“I know, it's just- that stupid Sponge-” Patrick almost interrupted him for calling Spongebob stupid- that was  _ his  _ role, not his best friend’s “-the other day he really shone a light on how… isolated I am.”

 

“Well… you don’t really get out much.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean-?!”

 

“Guys,” Patrick cut in, “ _ I statements _ . And use the bubbles.”

 

Karen sighed and blew some more bubbles. “Maybe you-  _ I _ think- I would like it if you came to my band practise from time to time.  _ I know _ -” She waved the wand at him, making more bubbles, when he opened his mouth “Krabs’ll be there, but Pearl keeps him civil, and we could ask the fry cook to mediate. Getting out the house more, having other goals- not that I would ever give up villainy- it can really do someone good.”

 

“Maybe for someone like you,” Plankton muttered, before taking the wand from her. “I know everyone in that room will either hate me or disrespect me. And it will stay that way until I make them bend to my will. I am not a likable person-”

 

“I like you.”

 

Plankton blinked again, and a look of horror overtook Karen’s face. 

 

“ _ I like you _ ,” she repeated, “I know it doesn’t always seem like it, but I do. We’re a team, we’re partners, and I’m glad we are, even if you can be infuriating at times. Sheldon- Big guy- you are as likable as anybody in Bikini Bottom.”

 

“...Karen-”

 

Patrick raised his hand, “I stateme-”

 

“ _ I was going to use _ \- ugh,” Plankton rubbed his face. Patrick decided not to mention how obvious it was that he was wiping away tears from his eye. “I… Karen, I… like you, too.”

 

Patrick’s phone began buzzing.  _ SESSION DONE  _ the lock screen read- right, he could never remember to set phone reminders for the start of events, but he always made sure to set when they end.

 

“So… I’ll see you guys soon,” he asked.

 

“...Well,” Plankton shot his wife a sheepish look, “I think it might be a good idea to talk to a professional. So we can see which one works better for us. I’m sure we’ll be able to scrap work something out.”

 

Patrick shot him a pair of gun-fingers.

 

“Oh, one more thing-”

 

“If you say anything containing the words ‘I statements’ or ‘bubbles,’ I swear we are going to vivisect you.”

 

“I was actually going to say you forgot to pay me.”

 

Karen rolled her eyes and pulled out a box from Plankton’s pocket. “Here: cake-pops.”

 

“ _ Cool _ , oh man, Spongebob and Sandy’ll love these.”

 

Karen stood and took Plankton’s hand.

 

After leading them out, Patrick pulled out his phone again to text Spongebob. Maybe he would be able to meet him at Sandy’s place.

 

As he turned to shut his rock, Patrick overheard:

 

“...I’m not insecure, for the record”

 

“Sheldon, in the body, I barely come up to your shoulders.  _ In heels. _ ”

 

“ _ I _ didn’t design it-”

 

“ _ I _ don’t remember designing this body so short.”

  
“Maybe,  _ I’m _ not the one with insecurities, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before, during, and long after my parents divorce, my mother would say to me "I love your father. I just don't like him." I am Super grateful that, even as a small child, I knew that was fucked up. However, I've come to realize, not many other people seem to think this.  
> So some quick life advice: you are supposed to like your partner.  
> Relationships shouldn't make you miserable.  
> And if I hear one more joke about someone hating their partner, thinking marriage is a trap, and/or that your romantic partner being your friend is weird, I am going to be sick.
> 
> Also, two side notes: (1)there is no shame in leaving a relationship for whatever reason. (2) there is nothing wrong with Not seeing/wanting to see/trusting a therapist. These are personal choices.  
> \--  
> -The bubbles thing and toy box thing are references to Wesley Taylor and Stephanie Hsu's TDF Live Chat: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NcmKcy1zYuI  
> -My step-mother, the past few weeks, has randomly given me like three cake-pops. Like, completely out of nowhere. I am confused and a little freaked out, but I'm not going to question it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pearl is stressed about college applications.  
> Then she has a lot more to stress about.

Spongebob was conflicted, to say the least. The relief he felt over finally being able to clock out was nearly swallowed by the guilt he had  _ about  _ the relief and the concern he felt looking at Pearl.

 

The day before, Perch had gotten back from the vacation his coworkers had insisted he take, and he immediately called Spongebob, Sandy, and Patrick about interviewing them. He insisted on doing it as soon as possible, so they were scheduled to meet in front of Sandy’s treedome- her idea- that night. The call had gone on for a while- it was more a series of calls as Perch tried to get all of them on the line and on the same page, while simultaneously dodging calls from the Mayor’s secretary, who said she wished to issue a statement about how the town was coming together- or something like that, Spongebob only caught bits and pieces when Perch thought he was on the secretary’s line. Spongebob had initially gone to Patrick’s rock so they could take the calls together, only to find a note saying Patrick had gone to Sandy’s-  _ again _ . 

 

It was the third time that week he had seen some variation of that note and between Perch’s calls about the interview, he had been texting Sandy and Patrick. According to them, he had been so caught up in work and lending a hand in repairing the town, he had given up basically all his free time- 

 

“ _ And the fact you’re doing everything ya can for Bikini Bottom  _ is not  _ the problem _ ,” Sandy had said, “ _ Shoot, Patrick and I wouldn’t even have the right to call ourselves your friends if we thought that. It's the fact you’re trying to take care of everything  _ but yourself.”

 

Spongebob had wanted to protest more, but nobody involved wanted to accidentally start a fight, especially given how late it was by the time everything was scheduled. He also had to admit he missed actually seeing his friends, too- just a few days ago, he had gone to Patrick’s for a Mermaidman Marathon, only to pass out a few minutes into the second episode.

 

He was getting off work early, so he could meet up with Sandy and Patrick, talk things out face-to-face, and change into something more “interview appropriate”- as far as he was concerned, between his tie and his habitually shined shoes, he always looked interview ready, and so did his friends. It seemed Perch Perkins and Johnny Elaine thought otherwise, however, judging by their insistence “they try for a more formal look.”

 

Still, he couldn’t just walk past Pearl’s table without checking on her. Since schools had reopened, she always seemed stressed about something, ready to rant about it, but stopping herself at the last minute with a “I’ll tell you about it later. I just  _ can’t _ now.”

 

She was glaring at her laptop like it had personally insulted her taste in music and was refusing to let her explain why she liked that kind of music in the first place, but the fact she wasn’t typing told him she wasn’t actually in the middle of an argument.

 

He lingered in the kitchen doorway long enough to send Sandy and Patrick a text and get one back telling him it was fine- he was Pearl’s official Unofficial Brother, after all- Patrick was still in the middle of a nap himself, and was still at his rock- just as long as he didn’t take too long- he was their family, too.

 

“Pearl?” he asked as he approached her, “You doing alr-?”

 

“My grandmother is  _ so _ unreasonable,” she cried, burying her face in her arms.

 

“What do you mean?” Betsy Krabs always seems reasonable to him.

 

Pearl silently turned her laptop towards him. _ How To: Apply To University _ .

 

“You’re thinking about going to college? That’s pretty coo-”

 

“My grandmother is _ making me _ ,” her head back shot up, “Like, she doesn’t even  _ know  _ me- she has no idea who I am or what I want. I _ just _ got through to my dad, I thought I was done with family ignoring what I want in life. She keeps saying if I’m not going to go into the family business, I need to have a back up plan.”

 

“Well, your dad-”

 

“Is on her side. He  _ always  _ takes her side.”

 

“Don’t most colleges _ cost money _ to _ apply _ to?” Squidward asked from his station with an air of disinterest- forced, Spongebob knew. An audible wince came from Mr. Krabs’s office, likely due to him _ sensing- _ rather than hearing- what they were saying.

 

“That’s what _ I _ said, but he still insists I ‘keep me options open’ and still find  _ something  _ to apply to.”

 

Spongebob blinked in surprise. “You have to _ pay _ to  _ apply _ ?” He heard another wince from Mr. Krabs’s office.

 

“Maybe,” Pearl went on, chin in palm, “I should call the Electric Skates’s manager or something- they  _ said _ I have talent. Maybe if I get a record deal or something, and make a lot of money like that, dad’ll drop this. Or would that be like enablement?”

 

“Well,” Spongebob said, “they’re only making you  _ apply _ , right?”

 

“That’s _ not _ the  _ point _ ,” Pearl buried herself in her arms again. “I get it- keep my options open and whatever, it's not a bad move. It’s just _ not  _ what I’ve ever really thought about. I don’t know what I’m doing, and since nobody in my family has gone, I can’t even have them  _ help _ me.” 

 

“I could help,” Spongebob checked his watch- he had plenty of time. Sandy and Patrick would understand, and they could always talk things out after the interview.

 

“Spongebob, _ you  _ didn’t go to college.”

 

“But I know people who have.” He was friendly with nearly everyone in town, after all. “Most of the fish from my graduating class are in their second or third year now, I could contact them for you.” Sandy might be able to help, too. She had graduated early and had basically been offered a place in a specialized learning program that eventually lead to her studying Bikini Bottom- he wasn’t too sure on the details, he really had no reference level- so there might not be  _ much  _ correlation, but he was sure she still had plenty of advice.

 

Since he had always known he wanted to go into  _ something _ involving food, he had never thought about college himself- culinary school, maybe, but not college. He began working at the Krusty Krab around the same time most of his classmates had begun looking into school, and had known right away _ that  _ was where he was meant to be.

 

“Hey, Squidward,” Spongebob turned, remembering something Squidward had mentioned once, “didn’t you go to community college?”

 

Squidward shuttered. “The application process was still an ink-indusing nightmare.”

 

Pearl let out a muffled groan.

 

“Go ask Plankton or something,” Squidward said, pulling out a magazine, “He’s helped a few of his younger cousins with their college applications.”

 

“That’s a great idea!” Spongebob grinned- why hadn’t he thought about talking to Plankton sooner? “We can even go ask him now-”

 

“How do you know that?” Pearl asked.

 

Squidward stiffened. “Er. Everybody- knows that- h-how did _ you _ not know that?”

 

“Good point, Squidward. Pearl,” Spongebob pulled her from her chair, “I don’t have much time today, so we should go now.”

 

“Spongebob, wait, talking to him might be a-”

 

\--

“-Bad idea, Spongebob, I’m serious, this is probably a _ bad _ idea.”

 

“I know, Pearl, but it also might not be.”

 

They were standing outside the Chum Bucket, and even Spongebob had to admit the thunder clouds surrounding it were ominous. 

 

“Daddy hates Mr. Plankton.”

 

“He trusts Karen, doesn’t he?”

 

“Not really. He has Larry keep an eye on her during band practise- not that he needs to, since daddy supervises our practises, anyway. And how do you know Mr. Plankton will even agree to help me?”

 

Spongebob squeezed her hand. “I’m positive Plankton would be glad to help- he’s super passionate about higher education, and  _ I _ trust him. Besides, Mr. Krabs would want you to go to the best college, right? And you need to know what you’re doing to do that.”

 

“You better be the one to tell him that,” she muttered.

 

“I’ll go in and ask Plankton if he’ll help- which he will, I’m sure. Worst case scenario, he won’t want to right now, and you can ask Karen again when you next see her.”

 

Spongebob pushed open the Chum Bucket’s doors, which gave way with a creak. It was mostly dark, save for a single flickering light. A flash of lightning illuminated the cobwebs stretched between the tables and chairs, a third of which were overturned.

 

By Chum Bucket standards, it was positively welcoming.

 

The sound of running caught his attention, followed by “ _ Greetings valued custom _ -oh.” Plankton skidded to a halt in front of him, the grin he had been wearing turing into a scowl.

 

“Its you.”

 

“Its me,” Spongebob beamed.

 

“If you’re here on behalf of your friend-”

 

“How’d you guess I was here with-?”

 

“-tell him if he didn’t want store-bought, he’s going to have to pay for my cooking like everybody else.”

 

“What?”

 

“What?”

 

“Store-bought?”

 

“Yes, store-bought.” Plankton crossed his arms. “I’m an evil genius, not a petty thief.”

 

“Really? Does that mean you’ll stop trying to steal the Secret Formula?”

 

“I said I wasn’t a _ petty _ thief.”

 

“Anyway, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m actually here with-”

 

“Oh. I knew he wouldn’t care either way about the cake-pops, but Karen has been wondering all week-”

 

“Cake-pops? Like the ones Patrick had?” Since he started unofficially working as a counselor, Patrick’s kitchen had been overrunning with pastries given to him by his clients- it’s gotten to a point that even Patrick can’t keep up with, and he’s had to start taking money as a form of payment. “You’re seeing Patrick? That’s great, Plankton!”

 

“Actually, Karen and I are going to start seeing a Dr. Picani- his office is a  _ long _ drive away, and his rates are already headache inducing, but we’ve heard enough good reviews about him to give him a try.”

 

“Still, it’s pretty great to see you and Karen working on things.”

 

Plankton hummed in response before turning on his heel, saying, “If you’re not here about your pink companion, and you aren’t going to buy anything, stop loitering in my restaurant-”

 

“ _ Mr. Plankton wait _ !”

 

Both Spongebob and Plankton jumped when Pearl suddenly shouted from behind them. Plankton almost tripped over an overturned chair, barely managing to brace himself against a table.

 

“Since when do you step so lightly?!” Plankton asked, clutching his chest, “If I had a heart, it would have stopped!  _ Neptune, _ did you have to sneak up on my  _ blind side, _ too?”

 

“I thought there might be booby-traps,” Pearl said defensively.

 

“I automatically disable them if the person approaching seems unlikely to be a threat,” Karen’s voice called from around the corner. “Sheldon, big guy, you okay there?”

 

Plankton huffed out a “fine.”

 

“Good, so I won’t feel bad for doing this-” she rounded the corner, head thrown back in laughter. Bracing a hand on her husband’s shoulder, she doubled over, “You-you should have  _ seen  _ yourself- jumped ten times your height into the air, I swear- your _ face _ -”

 

“ _I_ ” Plankton said, “cannot believe you.” 

 

This made Karen laugh harder, and even Plankton seemed to be suppressing a smile- Spongebob had no idea why, but it was nice to see them getting along.

 

“The weather outside was kinda freaking me out, too,” Pearl said.

 

“I’m assuming this had to do with your band, then?” Plankton asked.

 

“Actually, I need a little help from you…”

 

\--

“Just so we’re on the same page,” Plankton rubbed the bridge of his nose, “You haven’t looked into  _ any _ colleges at all?”

 

Pearl shook her head.

 

“Most college deadlines are  _ early  _ in the school year, you know”

 

“Seriously? Is that why so many of the Seniors look like death by Thanksgiving break?”

 

“Wait- you aren’t even a Senior yet?”

 

“Sophomore. But I’m taking like two Junior and Senior majority classes…”

 

Spongebob half-watched Pearl and Plankton’s conversation from the table he and Karen were sat at, keeping an eye on his watch. He still had plenty of time, but guilt was beginning to gnaw at him. He _ missed  _ his Team of Tres, and his friends were worried about him.

 

“Doesn’t your school have a college advisor?”

 

“Kinda not really? She didn’t really handle the volcano thing well- I think she was part of Patrick’s cult and had a spiritual crisis or something, and she’s taking the rest of the year off to travel the ocean and ‘find herself.’”

 

Not that they needed to. He had every intention to make them understand he was fine- he had climbed and survived more than just Mt. Humongous, a little community service was nothing.

 

“Sign up for the PSAT- it’ll give you an idea of what to expect on the SAT and ACT, and a few colleges will start contacting you once you get your scores. Do you have any idea of what you want to study?”

 

“Music,” Pearl replied right away. “Or fashion.”

 

“Look into arts schools, then. I’d think about attending the community college for your first two years, if I were you- you’ll be able to take care of your GEs, and have more time to think about what you actually want to study. They’re generally cheaper. Not that,” Plankton bridged his fingers, “ _ You’d _ have to worry about the cost.”

 

“I  _ am  _ worried about the cost, though! My daddy has a problem, we’re working on it, but, like, what if he can’t handle the stress-”

 

“Krabs thinks  _ he  _ has things to stress about? Maybe if he’d keel over from it…” Plankton muttered.

 

“What?!”

 

“I mean, if your dear father isn’t willing to pony up the funds for his daughter’s future- I am  _ not _ rephrasing that, stop glaring- try looking into scholarships and fee waivers- your advisor normally would be able to help you with that, but well…”

 

“Would I even be qualified?”

 

“How are your grades, for starters?”

 

“Okay, I guess? I mean, I usually get good grades on my tests, but I always forget about homework and stuff, so it balances out kinda?”

 

“Sheldon was the same way,” Karen said in aside to Spongebob. “All of the brains, none of the effort. Kind of the opposite, these days. That was a joke,” she added hastily. “We like to banter and poke fun at each other, but I’m trying to reel it in, to avoid actually hurting him.”

 

Spongebob looked up and gave her a quick, understanding smile before pulling out his phone. He wanted to say something, but he had realized that Patrick, after texting he was still in the middle a nap, hadn’t actually replied to any of his massages. Had he fallen to deeply asleep to notice them? Should Spongebob make a detour to his rock?

 

Was Patrick upset at him?

 

“You’re the first generation of your family to go to college, you do extracurricular activities, you were adopted, you’re smart, and you’re father was in the navy.” Plankton was saying, “Trust me, you will have no problems getting any schol-”

 

_ “I was adopted?!” _

 

Spongebob nearly dropped his phone at Pearl’s suddenly shrill voice. She looked mortified, her hand’s flying to the sides of her face. Plankton, for his part, looked like he had just swallowed a lemon.

 

There was a tense moment of silence, broken by Karen’s “Nice one, Sheldon.”

 

“How was I supposed to know she didn’t-?”

 

“Why wouldn’t he tell me?!”

 

“I-”

 

“What happened to my birth parents?! My dad told me my mother was dead! Was he lying to me my whole life? Did they not want me?!”

 

“Listen, I-”

 

“How would you know, anyway?” Pearl demanded. “You don’t even know my daddy anymore!”

 

Plankton held his hands up, looking desperately at Karen and Spongebob. “I… I don’t, true, not anymore…”

 

“Why would you _ say _ -”

 

“Crustaceans don’t lead to Cetaceas, for a start. Also…” Plankton’s voice lowered as Pearl stood quickly, knocking her chair over, “I one time temporarily switched lives with him by sending my consciousness to an alternate timeline where I had his life and he had mine, and you were  _ my  _ daughter there and… you know, copepods are crustaceans, and crustaceans don’t lead to-”

 

“Why didn’t he tell me?” Pearl asked again, her eyes feeling with tears. Spongebob’s heart broke at the sight.

 

He rushed over to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Pearl, its okay, don’t cry. He must have a reason- I know he does-”

 

“And you know everything, don’t you Spongebob.” Her angry tone surprised him.

 

“I- no. No, I don’t, Pearl. I just have a gut feeling that he does.”

 

“Larry was adopted,” Karen cut in, standing behind her husband. “His parents are still his parents. Trust us, families can come in any form-”

 

“And if there isn’t drama, what’s the point of having a family?” Plankton added weakly.

 

“Like what?!” Pearl was blinking rapidly, trying to fight off tears- something she never did, Spongebob realized with horror.

 

“...Like half-siblings you’ve never met-”

 

“I could  _ have  _ siblings-”

 

-Bad start, okay, too many cousins to keep track of-”

 

“Is this why I barely know any of my family?”

 

“Er… unsupportive parents you never see?”

 

Pearl burst into tears.

 

“At least Krabs isn’t making you be an insurance agent, right?”

 

“Sheldon,” Karen said softly, “I think you’re only making it worse.”

 

“I can’t deal with this now,” Pearl sobbed.

 

“Pearl,” Spongebob began tentatively, “It’s not good to _ not  _ talk about things.” He looked anxiously down at his watch- he really did need to get going. “...I could talk to him with you tomorrow-”

 

“No. Nope. I can’t-” Pearl wiped her face. “I am talking to him now- alone,” she announced. “If I don’t do it now, I’ll probably avoid it forever, and I can’t deal with him not bringing it up for forever.”

 

“Pearl, wait-” Spongebob’s text tone went off.

 

Plankton stood himself. “Okay, er. This is my bad. Listen, can you do me a favor? Don’t mention to Krabsy that I was the one who told you this. If he doesn’t kill me, I’ll probably kill him- in self-defence, I mean! And, you know, the cops’ll get involved… I’ll help you every step of the way if you do want to go to college, I swear, just-”

 

“I hate you all,” Pearl said.

 

Spongebob almost burst into tears himself.

 

“No, you don’t,” Karen said. “Pearl, sweetie, take a moment to calm down before you do anything hasty. Trust me, rushing into things with only half a plan never works.”

 

Plankton tugged on his collar at this.

 

“Fine. Fine!” Pearl pointed at Plankton, “Whatever, deal. I’m going home.” She looked down. “Spongebob, I don’t hate you, for the record.”

 

She turned on her heel and ran out.

 

Spongebob considered following her, but his phone went off again.

 

“I’ll see you guys later, I guess,” he said picking it up and following her out.

 

Behind him, he heard Plankton say, “So… I think I’m not invited to any of your band’s practices…”

 

Spongebob called Patrick- he needed to hear his friend’s voice. 

 

“Hello, this is-”

 

“Pat, you at Sandy’s yet?”

 

“Almost. Are you?”

 

“Not yet. Listen, I have a lot to talk about after the interview…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I'll be honest- all that was a thinly veiled attempt to talk about a life long headcanon of mine. I always thought Pearl being adopted Was canon as a kid, and I'm pretty sure the episode where Plankton switches lives with Krabs cemented it for me.  
> -Seriously, anybody out there still in high school interested in college- talk to your school's adviser, especially about fee waivers. If you live in the USA, look into FAFSA
> 
> -Dr. Picani is a character from Thomas Sanders's video (a possibly series): Cartoon Therapy https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DSPEZ6GAnzA


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To hell with it, if Hillenburg, Landau, or anyone else with authority over these characters won't Pearl an origin story, then I, the cynical college student on the verge of an emotional breakdown, Will.
> 
> CW Implied Unhealthy Relationships; Discussion of Murder (nothing graphic)

“Ay, Pearlie!” Eugene called, “Didja forget yer keys, too?” He held up his daughter’s backpack with a lighthearted chuckle, not at all surprised she didn’t laugh back.

 

Pearl was sitting on their front step, hunched over with her phone held loosely in one hand- dead battery, he suspected. There was a chance she might have tried to call him when he was out of his office, manning the grill, or after he had left work- he didn’t have a mobile phone, opting not to spend extra on something claw-friendly when he was usually near the shellphones he had at home or work.

 

“Actually, _ no _ ,” she looked up. Her eyes were reddened, a tell-tale sign she had been crying. Eugene tried not to get too worried- it wasn’t hard to get her crying, after all. He guessed she had burst into frustrated tears once she had gotten home, only to find herself locked out. Or maybe it was related to the stress of being a teenager, with tests, a social life to maintain, a grounding on her head, and and returning to school after barely surviving a natural disaster.

 

Or maybe it was the college thing- she had seemed more annoyed than anything when his mother insisted she at least apply, but that annoyance could have easily escalated between that conversation and then.

 

“I didn’t forget my keys,  _ daddy _ ,” she went on. Eugene tried to remember what he had done to warrant her harsh tone- was she upset he had agreed with his mother? As expensive- he suppressed a shutter- college could be, and despite the fact that college didn’t guarantee a successful life- all anyone had to do was look him and Plankton to know that- it at least would open more doors for her than simply focusing on music. “To be completely  _ honest _ with you, I’m out here because I’m debating whether I should run away after all.”

 

Eugene settled next to her on the set with a sigh. “Pearl, here’s a teaching moment for ye: whatever this is about, ye can’t just run away from yer problems.”

 

“Am I, though?  _ Or are you _ ?”

 

“...This is what I get for letting ye hang around the likes of Squidward.”

 

“Guess what I learned today,  _ dad _ .”

 

Eugene gestured for her to go on, wondering how long this conversation would last- her frankly dramatic tone and direction seemed like a roundabout way of addressing her issues, but the last thing he wanted to do was stifle or offend her in some way by telling her to just rip off the bandaid and say what was on her mind.

 

“Most of the websites I checked said the best time to tell someone they were adopted is between two and eight.”

 

His heart froze. The _ second _ to last thing he wanted to do was have  _ this  _ conversation.

 

“Th-that’s very interesting, princess. Did ye look that up for a school project?”

 

“Nope, I-”

 

He stood. “Well then, maybe ye should stick a pin in that for after ye get off grounding- don’t want ye getting distracted from yer school work after all. If ye have to many things going on at once in yer brain, you’re bound to fry it-”

 

“Daddy, I know I was adopted.”

 

“Sweet Mother-of-pearl-”

 

“I was just about to ask about that, too.”

 

He reluctantly sat back down beside her. “How’d ye figure it out, first off?”

 

For a brief second, she looked as guilty as he felt, but it passed before he would be sure. “...Crustaceans don’t lead to Cetaceas,” she muttered.

 

“Ye were always too smart for yer own good.” He racked his brain, trying to find something to say. He had been planning a speech for   _ years _ for this very moment , but he couldn't for the life of him remember anything he wanted to say. “Kinda hoped ye wouldn’t notice, or assume ye were mixed, like the likes of Squidward.”

 

Pearl pulled her sleeves over her palms before burying her face in them. “I thought I was mixed, but, like, Crustaceans and Cetaceas. Just-”

 

He held up a claw before she could say anything. “ _ Just know _ that ye are me daughter. It doesn’t matter how. It has never mattered, and I have always loved y-”

 

“ _ Neptune’s sake _ , dad, I don’t  _ care _ about that. I just want to know why you lied to me for so long, and when exactly you were planning on telling me.”

 

“...I like to think of it as more…  _ omitting _ a few minor details here and there.”

 

“My  _ species _ isn’t a _ minor detail _ , dad. Especially after that, I don’t know, _ lynch mob thing _ went after Sandy Cheeks.”

 

Eugene turned his head in surprise. “What do ye mean by that?”

 

“Nothing, whatever, doesn’t matter,” she said a little too quickly for comfort. “Anyway, you used to say I ‘took after me mother’ and stuff. How would that _ not _ be a lie?”

 

Eugene sighed once more in defeat. 

 

“...It’s appropriate that we’re having this talk  _ here _ , on this step. Fifteen years ago, I was woken in the middle of the night by the sound of a baby crying, and found ye in a basket, not even a note of goodbye or explaination.”

 

“I was a _ doorstop baby _ ?”

 

“Tiniest thing, too. Ye were about a week or so old and barely the size of me claw.”

 

“Daddy, you’re claws are enormous.”

 

He had initially planned on calling the police or taking her to the nearest hospital and leaving her there, he remembered. The thought of her going into  _ the system _ stopped him- growing up, he had lived under the constant fear of being separated from his mother if the wrong person discovered just how poor they were, and thus cultivated a lifelong distrust of it as a whole. Besides, he had heard time and again that whales don’t fair well in _ the system _ , either growing up in under-funded orphanages or being bounced from foster home to foster home.

 

“...So you never knew my- what? Birth parents? Bio parents? What am I supposed to call them, anyway?”

 

“I knew yer birth mother, all right. It was the coincidence to end all coincidences that I did, actually. I became so busy caring for ye that I finally had to hire someone to man the register for the Krusty Krab.”

 

Pearl whipped her head to face him. “So she-”

 

“-Was one of the first cashiers, yes.”

 

“...So what happened?”

 

Might as well tell her her story- or most of it. There were a few details he planned on leaving out- maybe he would take them to his grave, maybe he would tell her once she was older. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure she could handle them yet- and he strongly believed a teenager like her shouldn’t have to handle them.

 

“She quit, once she saw ye-  _ not that there’s anything _ wrong _ with ye _ -” he rushed out at Pearl’s stricken expression, “She just… wasn’t ready to be a parent. She…” Mother-of-pearl, how should he say this?

 

“She lost her husbands to the hooks,” he finally settled on.

 

“Oh my  _ cod- Neptune _ \- I’m related to someone who actually  _ died _ ?!”

 

“Last I checked, everyone is, Pearlie.”

 

“ _ You know what I mean. _ ”

 

“Lotta innocent fish were caught by those hooks that year...,” his voice trailed off, almost shuttering at the memory- mostly sardines and tunas, though he knew Mrs. Puff’s husband, Coco Puff, had been caught as well. “Not all of them were reported,” he added darkly.

 

“Oh  _ Neptune, _ ” Pearl said under her breath.

 

Eugene really hated having to tell her the next part. “She left town by way of Mt. Humongous, last I heard. Not long after, there had been an avalanche- a minor one, that didn’t reach the town, but it took out the ski resort they used to have about halfway up- no survivors- and bumped up Mt. humongous to _ Third _ Most Likely to Kill Ye.”

 

“This actually  _ is _ the worst day of my life.”

 

Eugene silently put a claw on her shoulder.

 

“I-I thought mom had just been  _ beached _ , and you didn’t like talking about her- I had no idea…”

 

“Ye still don’t,” he mumbled.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing. Come on, let’s go inside- might still be able to catch the tail end of that fancy interview Spongebob and his friends are doing.”

 

Pearl gasped. “That was  _ today _ ? I completely forgot about that!”

 

He stood and held out his elbow to help her up- once, when she had been young enough to still find him cool (or whatever kids called it these days. He could never keep up with their inconsistent slang), she had asked him if he wished he had fingers, so they could hold hands like most of the other fish families. He hadn’t, not even when he had been a child, and his sin had been less greed and more envy. Not until she had asked.

 

“Just so we’re on the same page,” he said, “I’m glad ye are me kid.”

 

\--

Eugene absently rocked his daughter’s baby buggy, watching the other families run around the park. His regular fry cook was holding down the restaurant- between  _ recent events _ and the fact that his mother wouldn’t be able to babysit for the next week or so- some fighting tournament she couldn’t miss was happening in the next town over- Eugene felt he deserved a bit of a break.

 

Or as much of a break as someone can have when they’re juggling a fussy whale calf, the absurd amount of paperwork needed to maintain custody of said whale calf, and the financial strain suddenly becoming a parent caused (not that he was straining financially, thankfully. He did not want his kid to grow up in an impoverished environment like he had. He was just strained trying to wrap his head around how expensive something so tiny could be.)

 

Watching a young starfish toddle up to a family of sea sponges without much interest, he almost didn’t notice the whale in a trench coat and sunglasses sit next to him.

 

“Guess ye _ can’t  _ trust the media, after all.”

 

“I dunno,” Nacre said in an uncharacteristically soft voice. “That on intern in the bright suit buzzing around the courthouse seemed to really care about getting all the facts out.”

 

“He’s in jail, just so ye know. Neptune only knows what ye did to keep _ that _ out of the papers.”

 

Nacre shrugged. “This one cop, Bubbles, she’s really helped me a lot. Is that…?” She gestured vaguely at the stroller. 

 

“Come to say goodbye?”

 

“Nope. I’m done crying over that murderer.” Eugene was tempted to point out that the baby wasn’t the one to lure all those innocent fish to the hooks, but she was already standing to walk away. He was _ not _ going to cause a scene and risk waking Pearlie- she had been up more nights than not crying (he hoped she would grow out of it soon), not stopping until he held her, and even then, she would refuse to let him go. If anyone got her crying again, he may just have a body to bury. 

 

“Just making sure to announce to the world ye are running away?” 

 

“Okay, that’s  _ not fair _ ,” Nacre whipped around to face him again. The kid sponge was staring openly at them, but other than that, no one seemed to notice them. “That’s your kid, not mine, right? That whale ruined my life and the lives of a lot of other fish- you know that pufferfish victim who just moved here? They actually started investigating his _ wife  _ for a while. I’m washing my finns of this-  _ goodbye Bikini Bottom, hello real life _ .”

 

He nodded vaguely at her- he couldn’t really argue. During his time in the Navy, he had served by countless fish who had needed to leave It- whatever It was to them- behind. “Eh, wasn’t trying to say anything like that. Just the sleep deprivation talking.”

 

“Molly Nacre, ammature cashier and idiot with love, is dead. I guess I just need one person without handcuffs on them to know why.”

 

“And where exactly are ye going, anyway?”

 

“I can’t say.”

 

“Ye don’t know?”

 

“No, I legally cannot say.”

 

Pearl let out a short whine, turned over, and much the Eugene’s relief stayed asleep.

 

Nacre- or whoever she was now- froze. Before Eugene could say anything, she turned away again.

 

“You know, it got kinda annoying after a while, you always talking about your ‘darling daughter.’ Still, you seem like a good dad. That kid’s lucky to have you.”

 

She walked away.

 

\--

“...Dad?”

 

“Yes, Pearlie?”

 

“I actually did forget my keys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -A few years ago, I saw this Spongebob Cartoon screenshot- no idea if it was real or not- of various characters in a jailyard. One of them was a male whale, which I remember everybody who say it universally agreeing that was Pearl's bio father. I have not seen that screenshot since, so I have no idea if it was real or the product of faulty memory. Either way, that is like 94% why I decided to give Pearl This origin. The other reasons: I wanted to avoid just killing off the birth mother/making her a Non-Character, I wanted to stay true to any lines that implied Krabs knew Pearl's mother ("she takes after her mother" ect) because it seemed like an interesting challenge to write around, and I've seen some theories that imply Pearl's mother was killed by the fisher hooks.  
> -Molly~Mollusk; Nacre~Mother-of-pearl  
> \-- for the curious, if I Had to give Nacre a story, I'd say she was the one to run over the long, red haired Electric Skate member  
> -Bubbles is that one ensemble member covered in bubbles. Her usual actress also plays the security guard who goes after Patchy. I like to imagine after some point she retires from being an officer to become a security guard herself
> 
> Eyo, if anyone has any prompts they'd like to send my way, feel free to stop by my tumblr: Sunshine-Zenith. I can't promise I'll actually do any, but I'd love to interact with y'all


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